


The Plague Of Iscariot

by Everyday_Im_Preaching



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Anal Sex, Bill needs to be reassured, Bite marks, Biting, Blood, Comfort, Fingering, Graphic Description, Gun Violence, Hand Jobs, M/M, Mild Body Worship, Mystery, Religious Themes, Slow Burn, Top!Dipper, Vampire Dipper, Vampires, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-23
Updated: 2018-02-06
Packaged: 2018-09-11 10:14:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 43
Words: 92,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8975467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Everyday_Im_Preaching/pseuds/Everyday_Im_Preaching
Summary: Being a vampire sucked.And no, that wasn't a fun pun or silly little joke. Being a vampire literally sucked; especially if you're turned at a young age.Turned in the year 1800, Dipper Pines has walked amongst mortals for over 200 years as an awkward sixteen year old. Alone and embittered, he found no reason to get involved in human affairs, preferring a solitary existence.Until now.





	1. Segway

_They sleep not, except when they have done mischief;_

_And_ _their sleep is taken away, unless they cause some to fall._

_For they eat the bread of wickedness,_

_And drink the wine of violence._

_-Proverbs 4:16-17_

 

Cars sped past him, sending large gusts of chilly air up and against Dipper's lips; if they could have chapped and reddened, he was sure they would have. His eyes lazily followed the cars, judging their speed and velocity. There was no way that they'd ever kill him—in fact, if he stepped in front of one of the four-wheeled death traps, the damage he'd do to the vehicle may as well kill the driver instead. Unfortunately, vampires had terrible luck when it came to suicide attempts.

“Hey, hey, kid!” the same rolling tenor called out to him. Dipper groaned to himself, fingers curling into tight fists. Whenever it became cloudy, Dipper would somehow make his way to the same intersection, directly in front of a small, abandoned strip. A few mom and pop shops still managed to survive, including an ugly little cafe that opened too early and stayed open too late. And the same  _fucking_ guy was always there drinking a cup of shitty coffee. It was always loaded down with sugar and creamer. If diabetes had a smell, Dipper was pretty sure it could be found in this asshole’s cup.

“Leave me alone,” Dipper called to him, turning his back to the highway. “Don't you have something better to do? Play canasta? Shuffleboard?” he asked, placing his hands on his hips. The human let out a huff of breath as he made it to the top of the hill, bending over and putting his hands on his knees as he tried to catch his breath. Dipper rolled his eyes.

“Kid, isn't this getting a little old?” The man was late twenties, maybe early thirties. The wind tugged at his hair, near-white and pulled into a small ponytail at the base of his neck. “You come out here every other day and stand in front of the highway like you're planning on jumping into traffic.” His breath eased so that he was no longer sucking in air like a man saved from drowning. “Isn't there counselling for this kind of thing? Some kind of hotline you could call?”

“I don't need help,” Dipper snapped, shoving his hands into his pockets. He played with the loose change there, twisting a dime in between his fingers. A hand clamped down on his shoulder, and a stark blue eye stared into his. Where the man's left eye had been there was piece of soft gauze. Dipper scented the air softly; the wound was fresh and smelled of chemicals. “What the hell happened to your eye?”

“My name is Bill. Bill Cipher,” the man introduced, avoiding his question. The hand on Dipper's shoulder was gentle, fingers light and slender. The vampire could feel the warmth through his jacket, slipping through the layers and pressing against his cold, dead skin. Dipper didn't push it away, listening to the quickly calming heart rate of the man in front of him. He cocked his head to the side; it was almost a seductive noise as it played over and inside his ears.

“Dipper Pines,” Dipper told him, voice slightly muted. The hand on his shoulder squeezed and a toothy grin greeted him when he looked up at the human. Some of the panic and concern eased its way from his face, and the vampire took a moment to admire the small wrinkles that lined the man's face and the slight stubble that decorated his jaw.

“Well it's nice to finally know your name, Dipper. Why don't you come on over, let me buy you a cup of coffee. Maybe we can talk about what's bothering you?” He was guiding Dipper away from the road now, voice soft. “I mean, you obviously keep coming back here, so the thoughts must be recurring.” Dipper wanted to snort at the human; he was so unaware of the forces that rocked and ran the world around him, it was hilarious. These 'thoughts' had been occurring since the day his sister turned him. Two hundred years ago to the day, actually. His sister was probably celebrating with any number of her friends, the undead that still saw fit to party and enjoy the monsters they'd become.

“I could be coming back to see you,” Dipper told him, forcing a light tease into his voice. Bill's eye widened and his face curved into an expression disgruntled shock.

"I'm flattered kid, but you are way too young for me,” Bill attempted, trying to get his mouth to work. “Can't go around cradle robbing.” The man's accent was odd, and Dipper allowed the silence to lull between them as he tried to place it. The hand was still on his shoulder, Bill's pulse so close he could almost taste the blood sparking along his tongue. Dipper's fangs began to lengthen but he clamped his mouth shut, narrowing his eyes.

Bill let his shoulder go to pull a chair out for him, motioning for him to sit down.

“Thanks,” Dipper muttered, sitting down in the rickety metal seat. “Why do you even come here? This place looks like shit.” He pointed at the water stained signs on the buildings that lined the strip; even the few still in business looked decrepit and abandoned. Bill cocked a finely kept eyebrow, lips twitching up into a grin as the coffee shop’s door opened and young woman stalked over to the table.

“What the fuck, Cipher?” she asked; her apron was a mess of flour and an arrangement of sweet, sugary scents. Dipper's nose twitched and he tilted his head. Underneath it all was the fresh scent of laundry detergent. “You can't bring your students out here on--” She turned her head to look at Dipper, who grinned shyly at her. Her nametag read 'Nancy'. “Shit, you're the kid that keeps tryin' to walk into traffic, ain'tcha?”

“Sometimes. I do have a twin,” Dipper told her, looking above her head. A single crow was perched on the roof and he cocked an eyebrow at it. It cawed, loud and repetitively _._   _Danger_. It cried loudly, wings twitching and adjusting as it hopped up and down.  _Danger_. It called to its brethren. “I've never seen her out here, however.”  _I haven't seen her in a long time_ , he murmured inwardly, eyes flicking down to look at the ground. Nancy cleared her throat after a moment, breaking the silence.

“Well, I'm glad that you're still with us,” Nancy tried, eyes flicking to Bill. “How about I give you a coffee or somethin' on the house? For decidin' to stay amongst the livin'? It's really brave of you to step away from the road each day.” She was babbling and her accent—distinctly southern. Not entirely out of place, considering where he'd moved to after--

“I'm not a big fan of coffee, to be honest,” Dipper said, voice soft and eyes still focused on the ground. Acting coy was a great way to avoid questions. “I'll be okay.” Bill frowned on the other side of him, but said nothing.

“Give me my regular, Nancy,” Bill told her, giving her a small, sly grin. She rolled her eyes, slipped her ticket book into her messy apron, and sauntered back inside, switching her hips. Bill watched for a moment before focusing his attention back on Dipper.

“Nothing,” Dipper suddenly said, leaning back in his chair. Bill frowned.

“What?”

“Nothing. I'm not trying to kill myself.” _Not recently, anyway_. Bill scoffed, shaking his head.

“You think that you're fooling anyone?” the human asked; his words were hard. “I want to help you. I really do. You shouldn't be out here. You should be at home, or God _forbid_ in school.” His shoulders tensed and he pulled back his sleeve to check his watch. He visibly relaxed at whatever time he read there. “But I understand that that's hard sometimes. Sometimes we can't go home because it's better out here than there. Same with school.” Dipper could see the human struggling to be supportive, to give him some kind of pep talk to save him from himself.

“I appreciate this, I really do.” Dipper placed his hands on the table. “I just...it's not what you think, okay? I'm not trying to off myself.” The human raised an eyebrow, but Dipper cut him off before he could speak again. “What do you even do? How do always manage to be here at the same time every day?”

“Lunch break. I'm the history teacher over at Woden High.” Bill jerked a thumb over his shoulder. Both of Dipper's eyebrows rose in unison. “I know, I know. They actually let us out once in awhile.”

“ _Woden_? That place is barely standing. I didn't realise it even had students,” Dipper stated bluntly, incredulity lining his voice. Bill winced.

“Look, I know it's not the _best_ school but the kids over there need an education just like any other kid. Maybe even more.”An emotion all too familiar to Dipper flared up in the teacher's right eye. Despair. Dipper hadn't really spent too much time amongst humans since he'd been turned, but something in his chest ached for Bill. He cleared his throat.

“I… I think that's really noble of you,” Dipper managed. The human looked up, confusion flitting across his face. “Not a lot of people think about the kids down here. It's nice to see you so dedicated to helping them.” The vampire sighed, fingers entwining with their match, slotting neatly together with the opposite hand. Dipper watched a single drop of rain plop on the concrete. “I have to go, it's about to rain.” Bill looked up at the sky with a frown and a soft curse. “You didn't bring an umbrella, did you?”

“The school's right over there. I should be--” Dipper lifted a hand, showing the compact umbrella that he’d brought to the teacher. Bill instantly shook his head. “--You can't one-up me.”

“I can,” Dipper told him, slipping the small thing from his wrist and offering it to the human. “Besides, I live really close to here. Shorter walk than you to the school.” When the human didn't take it, Dipper placed it on the wire table. “Thank you, again. For being concerned.”

“Wait.” Bill stood from his chair. “Just a moment, please,” he said to Dipper's back. He pulled a piece of paper and a pen from his pocket, quickly scribbling his number down. Dipper turned slightly as it was thrust forward. “If you ever need anything. A place to go, someone to talk to. Promise me you'll call me. Don't hurt yourself.” This time, the vampire did snort, a smile unwittingly crossing his lips.

 _Stupid human._  He snatched the paper from the fingers, maybe a little rougher than he should have. The teacher didn't seem to mind; he'd done his good deed for the day. Helped a kid in trouble, or so he thought. Dipper shook his head, turning his back to the human once again.

“Have a good day, Bill,” he called over his shoulder, lifting the hand that still had the paper betwixt his fingers.

“You too, Dipper,” the teacher replied, loud and joyous in the chilled autumn air. Dipper shook his head, stuffing his hand back in his pocket.

_What a stupid human._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys!  
> This fic will be taking NTGBD's update slot after this Sunday!
> 
> My beta is EmberGlows :3
> 
> Want to stay updated? Click [here](http://everyday-im-preaching.tumblr.com/) to stay in the know!


	2. Make Believe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got excited so here's another chapter of this fic xD whoops! My fingers slipped!

_Come along with us;_

_Let’s lie in wait for innocent blood,_

_Let’s ambush some harmless soul;_

_Let’s swallow them alive, like the grave,_

_And whole, like those who go down to the pit;_

_We will get all sorts of valuable things_

_And fill our houses with plunder._

_-Proverbs 1:11-19_

 

 

The blue-white glow of Dipper's phone washed over his face, paling his rounded cheeks. He had unwittingly dialled Bill's number, yet had restrained himself from pressing the call button. The vampire drew his bottom lip into his mouth before shaking his head and letting his hand fall to the mattress around him.

“Can't call him. Don't want to call him,” Dipper snarled, rolling away from the phone and focusing his eyes on the wall opposite him. Posters for action films were layered over each other, hiding the pale wood of the wall from the viewer. “I don't have a reason to call him,” the vampire told himself, sitting up with a determined furrow of his eyebrows. “I am not that thirsty for attention.”

Forcing himself up from the bed, Dipper slunk his way across the bedroom to his door. A walk would clear his head of this 'human' nonsense. Hand on the doorknob, he paused—and then walked back over to the bed and picked up his phone. Just in case.

Slipping out the front door of his home, the vampire narrowed his eyes at the clouds that still covered the sky. An umbrella, new with the tag, was cinched around his wrist. But not in case it rained. It was for if the sun decided to banish the clouds and show its ugly face.

Contrary to vampire legend, the sun didn't make them burst into flames and crumble to ash. It was simply very, very unpleasant and would steal away their energy until they fell into a blood fever—that was what would get you killed. A vampire that was experiencing blood fever would sink their fangs into the first warm-blooded human they could get their claws into.  

“This isn't how I wanted today to go, Cipher.” A low snarl had Dipper jerking his head up; it sounded about five hundred feet away. Quiet, careful steps to the source of the noise brought him to the alley directly to the left of his home; he cursed himself inwardly. That's what he got for buying a house in the cheap part of town. Thugs beating up history teachers in abandoned alleys. “Now, the boss isn't happy with your half-blind ass so here's how it's going to go--”

“--Look, I don't know who you think I am,” Bill interrupted. “But I really don't have time to play with you.” Scenting blood, Dipper peeked around the corner. Bill was shoved against the wall, a thick fingered hand tightly wrapped around his throat. A pained grimace was ingrained into the lines of his face, one of his own hands over his attacker’s. Both his nose and lip were bloody, and Dipper's pupils  dilated at the heady scent of fresh blood. “I have a shit ton of papers to grade tonight and they aren't going to get done if you don't get your hands off of me.”

“Do I look like I fucking care about your day job?” the man snarled, slamming him against brick. A sickening crack echoed in the alleyway and a low, pained whimper came from Bill. Dipper shook his head. He looked up, cocking his head to the side. An aerial attack was a no-go. In the daytime, it was too risky to try anything so bold; he supposed that a frontal assault would have to work.

“Let him go,” Dipper demanded, voice cracking and making him wince. Who did he have to kill to be intimidating? The man turned, letting out a quiet scoff at the order.

“Get the fuck outta here, kid,” the man snapped. “Before I send you to the bottom of the lake, too.” Bill's good eye widened when he saw Dipper. He thrashed a bit in his attacker’s hold, calm façade falling away as he tried to get free. The vampire shook his head, reaching a hand up to wipe at his eye, tired. He should be asleep, not out playing hero to some third rate public servant.

“Just put him down, okay?” Dipper tried, taking a few steps forward. The stone was quiet beneath his feet and he took a moment to realise that he hadn't bothered to tug on his shoes before exiting his home. His mind flashed back to the sticky note on the door with a reminder scrawled on it to remember; whole lot of good that had done. Dipper's feet became damp as they touched the rain-swollen pavement and he silently thanked his vampiric nature for his inability to get sick.

The hand around Bill's neck loosened and then dropped him to the mismatched stone below. Bill grunted and rolled over onto his side, one of his arms going to wrap around his stomach whilst the other braced him so that he could keep his torso off the filthy ground.

“Kid, run,” he croaked through gritted teeth, blunt, chewed fingernails scratching stone. “Don't fuck with him, Louis, he doesn't have anything to do with us or your boss.”

“Oh really? Looks like he's wanting to have something to do with it.” Louis was roughly six feet tall and towered over Dipper. “You want to protect this piece of shit, you little brat? Do you let him fuck you for extra credit?”

“Don't go there,” Bill snapped angrily, eye flashing. Dipper crossed his arms over his chest, cocking an eyebrow in question. This is why he hated humans. What was the point of saying something like that? Was it supposed to offend him?

Dipper supposed this 'Louis' wasn't aware of how hard it was to get laid when you were two hundred years old and looked two years too young to vote. Besides that, sometimes you had to do immoral things. Fucking your teacher to pass, maiming street thugs—was there a difference, when it came down to the big man in the sky?

Dipper remained silent as he stepped closer, and he saw fear flit across the large man's face. A slight shifting in his stance, legs tensing as he locked them in place. Dipper could hear the soft thudding of the man's heart in his chest began to speed up, but only a bit. And yet still, the vampire said nothing. Simply stared, unwavering and unblinking, as he held the thug’s gaze.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Louis demanded. “Fucking freaky ass kid.”

“Just leave.” Dipper's voice was sharper than intended; three steps forward, quick and jerky. Like a badly controlled puppet. He almost slammed into the human, causing him to stumble back and away from Dipper. “You don't have any reason to be here, do you? What do you gain from killing him?” Louis took a step back, actual fear creeping into his eyes. Bill was narrowing his eye, watching the exchange with concerned curiosity. He was sitting up now, bracing his back against the wall.  

The fist hurtling at his face was expected; it always was. Dipper caught it with his own, stubbed fingers and twisted. Louis let out a sharp, pained cry as his wrist popped free from the socket, rendering the hand near useless from the crippling pain. Dipper took another step forward, twisting the wrist even more, backing the man up even farther.

Dipper risked a look at the history teacher, who was still staring. He turned his eyes back to Louis. Leaning up, he spoke quietly beneath the large man's ear.

“I can and will kill you right here.” Dipper's voice was level and soft like a mother's kiss whilst his breath was chilly as the snowflakes that fell in late December. “If you don't get the fuck out of here.” His lips rose and he let out a quiet hiss. His fangs lengthened, barely pricking the skin of Louis's neck, just out of Bill's range of vision. “I will rip your ugly head off.”

“Fuck, you're one of  _them_.” Louis's voice rose an octave in panic. “Look, I ain't tryin' to start any beef with Syd, okay? I was told to kill. They didn't tell me nothing else. I didn't know the situation had changed.” Dipper's eyebrows shot up. What on earth was he talking about? He let his face return to the collected, relaxed expression he'd worn previously, staring in blatant indifference. He stepped back, looking Louis in the eye. “Just, don't fucking tell Syd, alright? I didn't know.” Dipper flicked a finger at the alley behind the guy and Louis stumbled back, nearly tripped, then regained his feet and darted down the alley like the Jersey Devil was nipping at his heels.

“Okay. So that was weird,” Bill stated slowly, looking up at Dipper warily. “You just had a three-hundred pound wall of muscle tuck his tail between his legs and dart off down the alley like a kicked puppy.” The vampire raised an eyebrow at Bill. “Oh no, I'm not complaining. But if he left like a bat out of hell, I don't want to know what's going to happen to me if you came to take his place.”

“Are you okay?” Dipper asked, ignoring what the teacher had said.

“Selective hearing. Got it.” He doubled a sleeve over one of his hands, pulling the soft cotton of his thin jacket over his fingers and raising it to wipe away the blood that was still leaking from his nose. Dipper caught his hand and pushed it back down, using his own sleeve as a substitute. “What'd you tell him to make him run like that?” Dipper rolled his eyes, pressing the back of his hand to Bill's forehead. The human shuddered at the chilled skin brushing his forehead.

“You have a fever. How long have you been wandering around out here?” Dipper asked, standing back up. He offered his hand to the human; Bill looked at it for a moment, then took it warily. It didn't take much effort at all to pull the man to his feet. He was tall and wiry—Dipper had been in such a rush to leave the last time they’d met, he hadn't been able to really look at him.

“Are you going to answer any of my questions?” Bill asked, attempting to dust off his jacket that was coated in dirt and miscellaneous muck. Dipper shrugged at him, slipping his hands back into his pockets.

“Probably not, if I'm honest with you. Come on, my house is right over here—I have some aspirin inside.” He took a few steps away from the teacher. When he didn't follow right away, Dipper looked over his shoulder. “I could have left you to that guy, you know.”

“I thought you said you lived near that intersection. Closer than Woden,” Bill said, crossing his arms over his chest and attempting not to wince. “Last time I checked, this is on the other side of the city.” Another shrug.

“Does it matter? You got to work dry, and now you're not dead. You should be thankful for the little things.” Dipper played with the change in his pocket once more, letting the dime clink against his nails. “Come on. Your head must be killing you.” Bill sighed and lifted his hands in defeat.

“Well, I guess it's the only thing killing me at this point. Thanks to you.” He reached down and grabbed his briefcase, eyes darting around the alleyway once more. “Seriously, though. Where are your parents?”

“Out.” Dipper turned the corner, narrowing his eyes as a small break in the clouds sent a warm ray of sunlight dashing down in front of him. He rose a hand to block it from his face as he passed.

“Judging by the area, you go to Saint Helena's, right? Maybe Silver Valley?” Bill continued to question. Dipper frowned, turning on his heel; the human stopped inches from him, locking eyes with the vampire.

“No.” A single word, sharp and quick. He turned back to the steps, already vexed by the human’s prying nature.

“You're awfully unfriendly for someone who just saved my life.” Silence. Dipper didn't have anything to say. “Oh, come on. Selective hearing, one-word answers. Give me something to go on, kid,” Bill whined, following him up the steps. Dipper remained silent, unlocking the door. “Why aren't you wearing any shoes?”

“Because I forgot,” Dipper reluctantly answered. “Do you always ask so many questions?”

“Are you always this cryptic? You're awfully serious for a sixteen year old.” He almost spun into the house behind Dipper, letting out a low whistle in appreciation. Dipper waved him further in so he could shut the door behind him. Bill stalked down the hallway, looking at the empty walls. His smile dropped from his face. The next time he spoke, his voice was softer and a bit concerned. “Your folks aren't exactly the kind for memories, are they?” Dipper shrugged in response. “I can see we're going to be great friends,” Bill remarked dryly, squinting at wall curiously.

“The best,” Dipper muttered to himself; he should have let the asshole bleed out in the alley. Bill  was fixing to become incredibly annoying, within an incredibly short amount of time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello guys! 
> 
> Song for this chapter:  
> My Eyes by Neil Patrick Harris & Felicia Day
> 
> Want to stay updated? Click [here](http://everyday-im-preaching.tumblr.com/) to stay in the know!


	3. The Smell Of Cinnamon

_They are wild waves of the sea, foaming up their shame;_ _wandering stars, for whom blackest darkness has been reserved forever._

_-Jude 1:13_

Dipper had tried to make Bill's a visit a short affair—he'd all but pushed the human out the door, rambling on about him needing to get home before dark. Bill had pouted and pleaded the vampire to let him stay, but Dipper insisted that he leave.

“How about you walk me to my car then?” Bill asked, flashing the vampire a grin that made Dipper narrow his eyes. “Just in case the big angry guy comes back and tries to finish the job?” The low whine in Bill's voice made Dipper want to rip the human's ears off—instead, he muttered out that he would, of course, walk the teacher to his car. Just in case. In all honesty, the vampire didn't want anything bad to happen to Bill, despite how much of an inconvenience he'd made himself in the total hour that he and Dipper had spent together.

“You're pathetic,” Dipper told him, snagging his keys from the bowl that was sitting atop the sagging shelf beside the door. He made a mental note to attempt to fix it later.  _Another sticky note for the door_. He sighed to himself, frowning in distaste.

“Certainly,” Bill agreed, eyeing the multitude of coloured sticky notes that covered the inside of the door; it was as if he hadn't seen them when he first came in. He pointed to the one that mentioned putting on shoes, then pointed at Dipper's feet. The vampire pursed his lips in irritation, and the human turned back to the door. “These are cute. I like the bright yellow ones.” He flicked the end of one, running his finger along the crisp edge.

 “They're helpful,” Dipper corrected, grabbing his hat from beside the small bowl, tugging it over the mess of brown, unbrushed curls atop his head. This robbed the sticky notes of Bill's attention as the teacher was turning to the vampire once again. He let out a low laugh at the hat, reaching over to tug at the frayed rim.

“This is cute, too,” Bill teased. “A little beat up, but cute. With its little blue tree.” Dipper batted his hand away as  lightly as he could muster  while he slipped his feet into a pair of sandals by the door. He didn't have the patience to climb the stairs just to find a pair of socks. “Present from the old man?”  Bill ccontinued to ask. The vampire briefly thought of telling Bill that he'd stolen it from the mother of a small child on vacation in Oregon. Dipper shook his head. The human would never believe him.

Instead of replying, Dipper stared at Bill, giving a small nod to the door. The human rolled his eye and opened it, taking a short jog down the steps; in doing so, he brushed against Dipper, briefly isolating his scent for the vampire to smell. The single breath of air brought a taste of divinity with it, making Dipper's fangs extend in hunger once again.

Rich leather was the first thing that hit the vampire, most likely from the well-cared for bag slung over Bill's shoulder. Layered atop it was the heady scent of cinnamon that had been kissed with the barest hint of citrus. The scent  _sang_ to him and Dipper feared opening his mouth, in case he couldn't fight the desire to surge forward and sink his fangs into the neck of the teacher beside him.

“Ah, more silence. You know, I think it's growing on me.”

“You're ridiculous,” Dipper replied, ducking his head down and muffling his voice as he locked the door behind him. “And they let you teach?”

“They'll let anyone teach who has a degree and the iron will required to wrestle kids into sitting still for an hour and a half,” Bill joked, waiting for Dipper to carefully descend the steps. “Or, you know.  Has a degree.” The vampire let out a soft hum, avoiding a puddle.

“Does that mean some of your peers have given up in regards to teaching?” Dipper questioned. The listless shrug of Bill's shoulders spoke for him.

“I mean, yeah. They don't try to get to know the kids and their quirks. The students aren’t stupid, though.” The human sighed, eye falling on the stone as the pair walked in quiet tandem. “Like, there's this kid named Aprelle; she's a  _great_  kid. But.”He lifted a gloved hand and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“But?” Dipper prompted, raising an eyebrow.

“She's been suspended three times,” Bill told him, shoving his hand back into his pocket. “For the dumbest reason.”

“What, has she been sneaking cats into class?” Dipper asked, tilting his head to the side. Bill winced at the suggestion, and Dipper let out a laugh, startling himself. He couldn't remember the last time he'd even _chuckled_. “You're kidding me.”

“I wish I was,” the human muttered. Dipper shook his head, trying not to snort. “Every time there's a new litter of kittens born in the back, she brings the smallest of them into class, hidden in her jacket.” Dipper couldn't help but laugh again. “I can't get her to stop—it's getting to be a serious problem.“

“It sounds like you've got a  _litter_  of problems,” the vampire tried; this time it was Bill who laughed. Dipper inwardly prided himself on the bit of humour as the lines around Bill's mouth crinkled in mirth.

“You've got that right. And that's the mildest student in my class.” They'd reached the car now, standing in front of the teacher’s Pontiac; Bill leaned against the beat-up exterior, teeth shining in the muddied light. Dipper smiled sheepishly at him, keeping his teeth behind his lips. He placed his hand on the side of the dirty, chipping red paint on the car.

“Pontiac GTO,” he guessed. “1969?”

“'67,” Bill corrected, running his hands along the small dents along the roof. “Fell in love with it a couple years back from the widower of the late music teacher. Bought it with the intention of fixing it up.” The human shrugged. “I've never found the time to do it, though.” He drummed his fingers on the metal.

“I think a long bath is all it needs,” Dipper told the teacher, wiping off a bit of dirt. “The dents and scratches give it character.” Bill chuckled and shook his head, opening the passenger door and tossing his briefcase in. Eyes following the action, they landed on a book on the dashboard. “You read romance?” Dipperasked, pointing to the paperback.

“Oh, this?” Bill leaned into the vehicle; Dipper let his eyes wander over Bill's back, following the tight lines of his dress shirt. As the human drew out of the vehicle, Dipper took a step forward, scenting the inside of the car. Cigarette smoke clung to the seats, stale and days old. Bill let out a quiet yelp at the sudden close quarters, slamming into the car door beside him as he tried to step away. “Jesus, kid, how do you move so fast?”

“I don't. You're old,” Dipper responded dryly.  _No, **you're**  old_, he chastised himself quietly. Bill rolled his eye, but offered the book all the same. “How's your eye?” the vampire asked, inhaling the scent of Bill once more; it was pressed into the pages and imprinted on the book in his hands. Bill made a soft noise of reluctance, looking away from the vampire.

“Well, the doc says I should regain sight in it,” Bill told him—Dipper listened closely to the human's heartbeat for some sign of a lie but found none. “Won't be the same, but it's better than not being able to see out of it at all.”

“That's good.” The vampire ran his fingers across the cover of the romance novel, cocking an eyebrow. “This is an older one by Silver, isn't it?” he asked, flipping through it. The pages were dog eared and worn, showing the love that Bill had given it over the years. “I've never read anything of hers that wasn't non-fiction.”

“You've read some of her stuff?” The surprise was evident in the human's voice; Dipper nodded. “This is one of her less well-known ventures. Critics said that she just isn't 'cut out for the treacherous, complicated pathways of love'.” There was a mocking echo in Bill's voice. “But I think that they just don't understand love the same way she does. It's really a good read.” His eyes twinkled. “I'll let you borrow it if you promise to return it.”

Dipper proceeded to smack him lightly with the book, but still clung to it.

“Are you sure you want to trust some kid you just met with your favourite book?” the vampire teased; inwardly, he knew that he would take care of the book as if it were the Declaration of Independence. He ran his fingers along the cover again, tracing the softened line of the protagonist’s face. She seemed so serious in the arms of the overly photoshopped man holding her, his hair swaying around the two at an unimaginable length. “She looks so solemn.”

“He,” Bill corrected with a clearing of his throat. “It's, uh, gay romance.” Dipper flicked his eyes up, unable to fight the smile that stole the the corners of his lips and turned them up. Bill was rubbing his neck, unable to look at the vampire. “You know what, just give it back, alright?”

“Nope.” Dipper tucked it into his jacket. “I think I'll give it a read.” He pat it through his jacket, noting the spark of interest that flickered in Bill's eye. “Drive safe, Bill.”

 

Once back inside, Dipper drew the novel back out, bringing it up so he could gently sniff it. He was highly aware of how utterly strange and creepy the action as, but at the first hint of cinnamon, Dipper didn't care. His feet took him in a slow waltz to his room and he hummed quietly to himself, keeping his lips pressed to the cover and nose resting on the top.

 “You know, it's weird,” Dipper announced to his room as he gently nudged his door shut with a foot. “This happens to be my favourite, too.” The vampire climbed atop his bed, looking with a smile at the bookshelf opposite him. Sitting amongst the books was an exact copy of the  onein his hands, looking far less read. He carefully laid on his bed, fingers wrapping around the edges of it as his eyes closed. After a moment of the darkness behind his lids, he sighed and opened them back up. Dipper's brow furrowed and his lips dipped into a frown as he stared up at the empty, dark ceiling. “This is creepy, isn't it?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys!
> 
> Song for this chapter:  
> Into The Ocean by Blue October
> 
> My beta is EmberGlows :3
> 
> Want to stay updated? Click [here](http://everyday-im-preaching.tumblr.com/) to stay in the know!


	4. Carrots

 

 _ He will cover you with his feathers, _  
_ and under his wings you will find refuge;_

_ his faithfulness will be your shield and rampart._

_You  will not fear the terror of night, _  
_ nor the arrow that flies by day,_

 _Nor the pestilence that stalks in the darkness, _  
_ nor the plague that destroys at midday. _

_A thousand may fall at your side, _  
_ ten thousand at your right hand, _  
_ but it will not come near you. _

_You will only observe with your eyes _  
_ and see the punishment of the wicked. _

_ -Psalm 91:4-8 _

 

 

 _You can do this_ , Dipper told himself, staring at the phone in his hand. Bill's number was up on the screen once again—it'd been two days since he'd last seen the human. _You don't even have to talk long. Tell him you're done with the book. Maybe ask him how he's feeling._ The vampire groaned, pressing the phone to his forehead and falling back into the squeaky leather armchair.

 “You'd think being undead would do something about anxiety,” Dipper muttered to himself, closing his eyes. He'd had so little contact with humans, the idea of calling one on purpose would have  made his heart race, if he were human. Instead it just frustrated to the point of making him want to kill something. Cipher's face swam into view and he relaxed against the seat. Killing Cipher might do.

Dipper rose from his chair, absentmindedly scratching at his chest. He was hungry, but he wasn't feeling like hunting around the city at the moment. He supposed he could drop by the hospital on Prospect and pick something up.

“I am not going to turn into some sappy vampire romance love interest,” Dipper told himself, climbing the staircase to the second floor. “I'm too old for this kind of shit.” Phone still in hand, he swayed up to the landing of the next floor. He ran a hand through his hair—he needed to get it trimmed. The worst part about being a vampire, next to needing to drink blood and stay out of the sun, was that much like corpses, your hair and nails continued to grow.

“I can't wait until this weather lets up,” Dipper muttered to himself; the sun was dipping below the horizon, the golden rays slipping out of view. Darkness replaced them swiftly and brought relief. The rain was soft on the stone beneath the vampire's feet as he made his way to his car; well, it wasn't necessarily his, but the previous owner wasn't in need of it.

 

“ _Look_ , I don't know what you've heard, sugar cakes, but your boss needs to take his business elsewhere.” The thick, southern drawl of the forensic pathologist was calm and stubborn. “Now get out, before I have security drag you out by the ears.” Dipper flattened himself against the wall, eyes narrowing as two humans, both looking cross, tumbled from the double doors and padded wetly down the hall.

“Gideon?” Dipper asked as he slipped into the morgue, eyebrows raised in question. The human jumped visibly, placing a hand against his chest.

“Dipper Pines, where on God's green earth do you get off scarin' me like that?” Gideon demanded, turning with a flourish and stomping his foot against the white tile. His scowl quickly turned into a coy grin. “Well, it's good to see you anyway. Too wet for my little vampire prince?”

“You know I don't like hunting in the rain,” Dipper told him, fingers tracing the dime in his pocket again. “What did those guys want?”

“Nothin' important, I promise.” Gideon straightened himself, running his hand through snow white locks of hair. Gideon claimed it was albinism, but refused to say anything more on the subject. “Just some wanna-be's tryna hustle me out of my side venture.”

“They were wanting blood?” Dipper asked, leaning against the human’s desk. Arms crossing over his chest, he frowned. “They're humans.”

“Were they? They didn't sprout fangs, so I assumed that they were among the livin', but some of y'all are just so convincing.” He was bustling over to the other side of the lab, obviously still distressed. “They were sayin' something about wantin' the information of all my vampire customers, so I assumed they were lookin' to get a piece of the action. And oh boy, that got _me_ fired up.” He paused, turning to Dipper. “A-Positive today?”

“If you've got it,” Dipper replied, eyebrows furrowed. Gideon nodded and bent inside the cooler. “They might come back, you know.”

“I got my Glock, hun,” Gideon told him, a soft hum in his voice as he came back across the room, three blood bags in his right hand. “I won't even lie. I'll say I was defendin' myself.” Dipper rolled his eyes, reaching for his wallet.

“How much do I owe you?”

“I'll give it to you for free, for a kiss,” Gideon teased, laying them on the desk. The vampire shook his head, pulling a couple twenties from his wallet; the human pouted. “Sixty.” Dipper nodded, handing the requested money over. “You're goin' to play hard to get with me until I'm in the grave.”The vampire shrugged.

“I'm sure any of your other clients would gladly accept your offer.” Dipper picked up the bags and slipped them into his coat. Gideon’s grin turned award-winning.

“That's what makes  _you_  so special.” His smiled faltered. “You be safe out there, alright? Heard a rumour that some hunters were in town, kickin' up a ruckus. Calhoun was in here earlier and he was just a wreck 'bout 'em.” He paused again, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. “You been alive so long, it'd be a shame for you to go out 'cause some hunter's goin' round playing pin the stakeon the vampire.”

“Thanks, Gideon. I appreciate the concern,” Dipper told him, offering him a small smile. “But I don't cause enough trouble. Barely a vampire, I promise.”

 

Dipper hadn't realised how long the single ring of a phone was until he was calling Bill, fingers drumming against the dashboard of his car. Slipping his fingers down, he fidgeted with the dial on the radio, tightening his fingers around his phone as it rung again.  _Don't pick up_ , he hissed pleadingly. The soft click of Bill picking up dashed his hopes instantly.

“Hello?” Bill asked, pleasantly enough. “Cipher speaking.”

“Uh, hey,” Dipper muttered through the phone. “It's Dipper.” There was a clatter of noise on the end of the phone that had the vampire flinching away. “Are you okay?”

“Oh, yes. I didn't expect to hear from you so soon.” Another clatter and a small grunt. “What's up?”

“I finished that book,” Dipper told him, gently resting a hand on the novel beside him. “I, uh, was wondering if I could drop it by your house or something?”

“Yeah, of course,” Bill agreed enthusiastically. “Definitely.” There was a jangle, like someone fiddling with a belt. “I live on the south side. Upper south.”

“By the tracks?” Dipper asked, pinning the phone between his shoulder and cheek. A couple was taking lazy steps across the crosswalk in front of his darkened car, giggling and kissing each other softly underneath a black umbrella. Dipper briefly considered running them down, but settled on honking his horn and sending them in a panicked run across the street, nearly sprawling out in the puddles beneath their feet.

“Mm. Are you comfortable with this side of town?” Bill questioned; there was something strained in his voice. “Think you can find your way to 95th and Harris? Third house down on your left, painted a really cheap shade of yellow.”

“Yeah, I can find my there. See you in five.” Dipper pulled the phone away from his ear and ended the call. Frankly, he wasn't sure he wanted to know what Bill was doing. He just hoped the human could have it over and done with by the time he got there.

 

“Wow, this paint really _is_ cheap,” Dipper stated dryly, cocking an eyebrow. His lips twisted in disgust at the gross, near pastel shade of yellow. Walking up the cracked concrete steps, he realised that Bill lived in a much cheaper part of town than himself. Despite this, the rose bushes on either side of the steps seemed to be well taken care of, with little, hand-drawn signs in front of them. They had tiny, angry faces scribbled on them and big letters warning Dipper not to touch the prickly flowers. Out of the corner of his eye, Dipper saw one of the curtains twitch.

“Dipper,” Bill greeted as he swung the door open. Dipper grinned at him weakly, then pointed at the signs.

“Cute. Draw them yourself?” Dipper asked. “Or do you have a kid that likes to help you garden?”

“Ah, unfortunately the Cipher bloodline ends with me,” Bill sighed dramatically. He waved an arm, inviting Dipper in. “Come in, come in. Get out of that rain—you look paler than a ghost.”

“I always look paler than a ghost. It's a teenager thing, you wouldn't understand,” Dipper told him, stepping across the threshold. He, of course, didn't need an invitation to slip into one's home—another fable to help humans sleep at night. But it didn't kill anyone to be polite.

As Dipper stepped in, he couldn't help but inhale deeply. Cinnamon. A genuine grin played at the corners of his lips as he shrugged off his coat and hung it on the nearby coat rack. Bill's dress shirt was unbuttoned at the top, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. The red ink stain was still on his index finger, bright and red. It smelled fresh, and judging by the heavily marked papers on the dining table, he didn't doubt that it was.

“That couch is terrible,” Dipper pointed out, jerking his head at the worn and faded piece of furniture. A thin, flowered print stretched across it, fraying in some areas. “Whose grandma did you steal that from?”

“My own,” Bill teased; Dipper couldn't help but shake his head at the socks the teacher wore. They were covered in tiny, cartoon carrots. Bill saw him looking and his grin widened even further. “I have a set of bunny slippers to match.”

“I'd ask if you were kidding, but obviously you're insane.” Dipperset the book on the table. “Thank you for letting me borrow it, really. I'll have to get myself a copy.” Bill nodded, sizing the vampire up.

“You want a coffee or something? I have a roast in the oven.” The teacher jerked a thumb over his shoulder. His kitchen was open to the rest of the home, with a bar separating the dining area and the kitchen itself. “You could stay for dinner.”

“I just ate, actually,” Dipper told him; Bill's smile faltered for a moment before he took a seat back at the kitchen table, looking right at home in the cluttered mess of papers. “Thank you for the offer, though.”The vampire stood there for a moment, looking at the triangular knick knacks that littered the top of an overstuffed bookcase. A set of reading glasses were placed among them, obviously well-used.

“Want to borrow another one? Maybe a couple?” Bill asked, focusing on the papers in front of him. “I have plenty.” Dipper knew he shouldn't. He shouldn't give himself a reason to see Bill again. The teacher was just a nice guy who cared too much; beside that, Dipper looked sixteen. And not the attractive sixteen, where you could pass off as eighteen. Oh no—he was standing there in all of his baby-faced, awkward-limbed glory.

“Yeah, I think I would,” Dipper finally said. “What do you suggest I read next?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well hello!
> 
> Song for this chapter:  
> Angels by Vicetone feat. Kat Nestel
> 
> My beta is EmberGlows :3
> 
> Want to stay updated? Click [here](http://everyday-im-preaching.tumblr.com/) to stay in the know!


	5. Coriander

_ What man is he that desireth life, and loveth many days, that he may see good? _

_ Keep thy tongue from evil, and thy lips from speaking guile. _

_ Depart from evil, and do good; seek peace, and pursue it _

_-Psalm  34: 12-14_

Dipper left Bill's home at a quarter to eight. He had left under the excuse that his parents would be starting to worry. In reality, Dipper found his eyes gravitating to Bill's neck, and then his jaw, and that single, twinkling blue eye. Then to Bill's pulse, slightly elevated; a scent of arousal and fear on the air. Bill didn't need the temptation any more than Dipper did, so he thought it best to leave.

The vampire couldn't explain the attraction that he felt for the history teacher. Dipper primarily blamed the human’s scent; it was so strong that it made his head spin in the best way. It made him wonder if Bill tasted of  _cinnamon_  and  _citrus_. If the blood flowing through his veins tasted bitter, a combination of the two flavours. It was enough to make Dipper squirm anxiously. He wanted to find out.

Returning home didn't even cross Dipper’s mind; how could it? Now that he was out of Bill's presence, his mind had cleared.  _Hunters_. Gideon had said that Calhoun was a mess when speaking to him. That statement alone was enough to have worry nibbling at Dipper's paranoia. Not necessarily because Dipper was frightened of the hunters—no, he wasn't scared of them at all. But he was scared of what that meant.

The only  time Dipper had ever seen a hunter was when a vampire got themselves noticed. And more often than not, it was on purpose.

 

St. Mary's was an old, distinguished church that prided itself on it's congregations devotion unto Christ. Little did they know that the head priest, Father Calhoun, was amongst the undead. Every Sunday morning, Calhoun stood at his pulpit and preached the words of Christ to his flock. And every evening, he fed upon their blood with the same amount of devotion.

Dipper didn't visit the priest often; he had no need of religion. But when you were over two hundred years old, younger vampires sought you out to make bonds, gain protection. There was safety in numbers, after all. It was no different in this case—Calhoun had heard from others about Dipper and had sought his aid when he was freshly changed, no sire in sight to claim the fledgling.

“Father Calhoun, how have you been?” Dipper greeted, hands stuffed into his pockets as he stepped into the small office. The younger vampire's expression was grim, bottom lip sucked into his mouth. Human teeth worried it.

 “One of them is sitting out there,” Calhoun told Dipper, entwining his fingers so tight that they popped audibly. “She smells of gunpowder.” The elder vampire looked behind him; he'd noticed the red-headed woman when he'd arrived, but he didn't think much of it. He gently closed the door behind him, locking it.

“A hunter? Calhoun, if she was a hunter, don't you think you'd be dead by now?” Dipper questioned, walking through the room and inspecting the collection of crosses on the wall. “Hunters aren't religious—they've no problem killing us in a church.”

“I know a hunter when I see one, Dipper.” Calhoun's hand slammed down on his desk and Dipper heard the legs of the desk creak under the weight. Dipper turned to him, thoroughly unamused with the aggressive display.

“How old am I, Calhoun?” Dipper questioned, fiddling with a pen holder. The pens rattled inside as Dipper played with it. Calhoun's eyes flicked up to the elder vampire. “If I remember correctly, I've lived over twice your lifetime. I've seen hundreds of hunters come and go.” He plucked a pen up, cocking an eyebrow at the golden inscription etched into the side. “Can I have this?”

“Dipper, I didn't mean to suggest that you—of course you'd know what a hunter looks like as well. Probably far better than I. I...” He let out a sigh. “...Dipper, I didn't mean anything like that. But I'm sure about this, I really am.”

“You do realise that we live in the midwest, right? Everyone here either smells like gunpowder or Bud Light.”  _Or cinnamon_ , his mind kindly reminded, and he shook his head of the thought. He pocketed the pen in his hand. Calhoun's expression was determined. “Okay, what makes you think she's a vampire hunter?”

“A couple weeks ago, there was a feral vampire in the Oldstown graveyard. Turned by an unknown sire.” Dipper nodded for him to continue. “Cleaners heard about him, but when they showed up—well, the vampire...he had been beheaded.”

“Beheaded? That's dangerous.” Dipper fidgeted with the writing utensils a bit more, poking through them.

“Yes. Which means whomever killed the vampire was either a pro, or was an extremely lucky amateur.” Calhoun's fingers were drumming on his desk now.

“I'm still waiting for your reasoning, Calhoun. Hey, do you have any of those rainbow pens? With the ink that changes colour the more that you use them?” He shook the holder in his hand, ignoring the small chuckle that escaped the priest.

“I see you're still enjoying the small pleasures that life offers.” Calhoun leaned back in his chair and opened a drawer to his right, pulling out a small pack of the aforementioned pens. “The cleaners brought the body here.”

“Why did they do that?” Dipper asked, taking the pack from Calhoun and inspecting it.

“They noticed that he had a rosary in his front pocket. A feral, newly turned vampire that had no time to adjust—they thought that he might like his soul returned to the cradle of  God’s arms. I was happy to comply. However, it was an  _ugly_  sight.” Calhoun shuddered. “But there was a human scent on him still; it lingers when they have to get so close, you know.”

“And it's hers,” Dipper stated, raising his eyes from the utensils in his hands. He set the holder down and pocketed the packaged pens. “You tell anybody else?” Calhoun shook his head.

“I didn't even tell Gideon about the dead vampire,” the priest admitted. “Just said that there were hunters in town.” Dipper nodded at him; suddenly, Calhoun's expression changed. A small smile played at his lips. “You smell different.”

“Probably,” the elder vampire agreed with a shrug. “Thanks for the pens.” He was turning when Calhoun called to him again, causing him to stop in his tracks.

“Dipper? I know this is a lot to ask, but...could you look into this? You carry more weight in town than I do. You've lived here for a hundred and fifty years. The others, they listen to you.”

“I might,” the elder vampire told him, shoving his hands in his pockets. “We'll see how things go.”

 

The night air smelled frisky; if air could smell like such a thing. Taking the steps two at a time, Dipper inhaled the electric, playful scent on the wind. It was enthralling. Despite the rain, it made the vampire want to sprint across the city rooftops, peering down at the small, ignorant humans below.

Dipper kept his hands in his pockets, not looking up from the stone beneath him.Behind him, light filtered from the stained glass, painting a faint, muted mural of the Virgin Mary on the bricks. Closing his eyes, Dipper listened.

Soft, quiet, tapping. Heels against the cobbled street. The sound of a child crying as he woke up from a nightmare a few houses away; right next door, a man was having a heart attack while his wife called 911. Nothing suspicious, yet—the air told a different story. Dipper unlocked the driver's side door, opening it slowly and hearing the hinges creak and sigh with years of use. He frowned, taking one last look at the empty street around him. Something was wrong. But  _what_.

 

Home was bittersweet, smelling cold in comparison to Bill's house. Dipper sighed, running a hand through his curls, tugging at them with an angry grimace. He needed to stop thinking about the teacher—it was severely affecting his mental capabilities. Gritting his teeth together, Dipper stumbled up the steps to the bathroom; he needed a shower, needed to peel off his clothes and wash away the scent that had ingrained itself there amongst the fibres of his clothes and skin.

“I really need to stop seeing him after I return the books I borrowed,” Dipper muttered, tugging off his shirt and tossing it to a corner of the bathroom, missing the hamper. His pants and boxers followed, barely dirty and thrown with the same poor aim as the shirt. “I mean, he might understand that I'm...” He paused, looking at himself in the mirror. Big brown eyes, soft and innocent, stared back at him. Dipper lowered his brows instantly, bringing them into a tight furrow. Now he only looked troubled, the beginning of a pout beginning. “...Oh, who am I kidding. Look at me. I look the same age as his students.” Narrowing his eyes, he flicked off the light switch; the glow of the nightlight filtered through the darkness; to a human it would have barely lit the room. To Dipper, it was more than enough.

Dipper always turned the knob of the shower as far left as it could go; the heat didn't bother him. But the steam that filled the bathroom and fogged the mirror—it reminded him of the forest back home, when he'd gallivant through it in the wee hours of the morning with his twin sister, hoping to catch sight of fae playing amongst the trees.

“That was a long time ago,” Dipper muttered to himself, stepping into the shower. His thoughts wandered back to the place where he was born; Ireland. He didn't remember much of it, nothing more than the thick fog and the smell of conifers; the large trees stretching up and up and  _up_ , piercing the early morning sky with limbs that were near as black as night. It was almost like it was all a dream, that he'd always been a vampire with a phantom limb of a past. Tangible in memory, yet non-existent when he tried to drag it closer.

Some nights, like tonight, the memories fled far too soon. Bill swam into his mind in their place, and he found his hand slipping in between his thighs. Feeding always seemed to arouse him; he swore at himself. That's why he had been so distracted over at Bill's. Dipper had somehow forgotten about that little side effect. And now he had Bill to fuel his deluded little fantasies. He snapped his hand up and braced the pair of them on the wall in front of him, gritting his teeth as his fangs unsheathed themselves; Dipper’s eyes burned as they turned white, a low hiss escaping him.

“No,” Dipper snapped, fingers curling into fists. “I still have to talk to this guy.” His erection didn't seem to be dissuaded, however, still thick between his legs. The idea came to mind of  calloused fingers stroking his thighs, worshipping him in the steamy air. Moving up his back and kneading the chilly flesh.

Dipper let a hand wander back down, cupping himself lightly. He began gentle and even, stroking himself and trailing his fingers up to run along the head, dipping into the dripping slit at the top. He opened his eyes, dragging his tongue over his fangs. The steam was really thick now, and he allowed himself to be seduced by fantasy.

The thought of Bill, spread out beneath him, tie and trousers undone and shoved away. He gnashed his fangs, thinking of slipping between tan thighs, running his claws up them. He'd be so careful with Bill, spreading him open—or maybe he'd let Bill fuck him instead. The teacher would tease him; Dipper pinned him as a biter too. Bill would be determined to leave hickies, would suck and nibble and bite until he'd made a mark. They'd be gone in a minute, with Dipper's healing abilities, but Bill's need to own him in such a primal way would be something to revel in. And that  _smell_. Bill's smell seemed to permeate the bathroom, even though Dipper's clothing was on the other side of the room.

The vampire came into his hand with a low hiss, biting down hard on the air and slumping against the tiled wall. He took a minute to let the last bits of pleasure pulse through him, fangs returning to blunt, human teeth. Dipper washed his hand, and then carefully proceeded to scrub himself free of his release. He expected to feel some sort of perverse shame; after all, the man was far younger than him. Instead, Dipper felt the overwhelming need to make Bill _his_. But that would require Dipper to reveal himself as a member of the undead.

“This week has been exhausting,” Dipper muttered, tilting his face up into the oncoming stream of water. Gideon, hunters, _humans_. “What a mess.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!
> 
> Song for this chapter:  
> My Hallelujah by Autoheart
> 
> My beta is EmberGlows :3
> 
> Want to stay updated? Click [here](http://everyday-im-preaching.tumblr.com/) to stay in the know!


	6. Puppy-Dog

_Be alert and of sober mind._

_Your enemy, the devil, prowls around like a roaring lion looking for someone to devour_

_-1 Peter 5:8_

Curling in an armchair the next evening, Dipper sat in his living room, staring at the television. A black, lifeless screen stared back at him—his reflection was solemn, lips pursed as he toyed with the idea of telling Bill of his true identity. On one hand, the vampire would be able to cure the insatiable, unexplainable need he had for the teacher now that he'd gotten a whiff of him. The other hand held something much more reliable, something far more safe--never returning to see Bill again, no matter the circumstance.

“Bill could understand,” the vampire reasoned aloud, pulling his laptop over to him. “But if he doesn't...” His lips pressed into a firm line. Brown eyes drifted down into his lap, focusing on intertwined fingers. Shaking his head, Dipper reached for his laptop and drew it into his lap. Fingers drummed on the lid gently as he thought.

If Dipper intended to start a relationship with the human, he needed to know  _exactly_ what Bill had gotten himself into. He was in trouble with someone. Whomever that 'someone' was, it wouldn't take long for them to realise that the history teacher was alive—and Dipper needed him that way if they were going to be a couple. At least for now. The vampire sighed and opened his laptop, curls bouncing as he shook his head.

“Bill Cipher, what about you made me turn my head?” Dipper murmured softly, typing the human’s name into the search bar. “Besides being handsome. And very, very odd.” He lifted a hand, pinching the bridge of his nose. “And in trouble. Fuck. You're trouble, that's why I noticed you.” Dipper shook his head again, gritting his teeth together.

The first thing to show up in the results was a news article—one involving a court case in Massachusetts that happened in March of 2007. Narrowing his eyes, Dipper shifted in his chair and tilted his screen back, ears catching on the soft squeak of leather beneath his naked torso. Over one-hundred thousand dollars worth of military-grade weapons went missing without a trace, and Bill had been named prime suspect in the case—there was even a trial, but there hadn't been substantial evidence to convict the teacher.

A photo was attached to the article of Bill in handcuffs, barely nineteen, eyes twinkling through the screen. He was staring directly at Dipper, face upturned towards the camera. Even though the photo was nine years old, Dipper could still trace his eyes over the hard line of the human’s jaw and the slight, lean build underneath his button-up shirt. Eyes flicking to the left of the article, Dipper pursed his lips. There were seven related articles. Opening each one, he found them all to be cases involving felony-level theft. Cars, firearms, sensitive information—Bill was fingered as the criminal in each and every one, yet was never actually convicted.

Dipper leaned into his hand, brow furrowing as he mulled over the information; Bill didn't seem capable of doing anything illegal  _currently_ , but it was highly unlikely that the human was innocent in every instance. There had to be a reason that his name kept coming up in high-profile cases. It seemed like the cases dropped off in early 2010.

“So, a redeemed thief, maybe?” Dipper murmured to himself. “Or just a very, very unlucky college student?” He scrolled back up to the first case, looking at the grainy photo. Dipper chuckled softly, shaking his head. “Trouble,” he murmured, lifting a hand and gently tapping the young Bill on the screen with a finger.

 

Dipper was outside.  _Again_. Shoulders hunched by his ears and his mouth pressed into a striped white-and-blue scarf, he crossed the parking lot of library, muttering darkly about the sun. Bill weighed heavily on his mind, but so did the presence of hunters. Not necessarily because he was worried about some unfortunate vampire having a clip of silver bullets emptied into their chest, but because if the hunters found out that Gideon was supplying blood to the vampires in town, well—Dipper didn't have time to protect two humans. And it looked like Bill was going to be enough of a hassle by himself.

Dipper had a thousand things rolling over themselves in his mind, beginning with the hunters and ending with Bill. Logically, he should visit Manisa. Changed in 1509, she was the oldest vampire that Dipper had ever met. Originally, Manisa had been a part of a Virginian Sioux  tribe that   had been hit by one of the early cases of endemic smallpox.

Instead, though, he found himself walking to the small café near the intersection, pulling his phone from his pocket. A phone call would be just as effective, he supposed.

“Hello?” Manisa's voice was thick with sleep—Dipper felt a twinge of guilt. She sounded as if he'd woken her with his call.

“Manisa, it's Dipper.” Cars sped past him as he walked along the side of the highway.

“Dipper? Where are you, it sounds like you're standing in a tunnel.” There was a small groan on the other side of the line, and Dipper raised an eyebrow. “I can hear you judging me.”

“I wasn't, but now I am. What happened to your whole speech about not fucking humans?” Dipper asked, stopping to lean against a concrete divider. A few cars honked at him, whether they were worried or angry, he couldn't be sure.

“Did you call to harass me?”

“Oh, no, but it _is_ fun.” He tilted his face up, catching the last remnants of colour as it slipped from the sky. “I called to warn you that there's a hunter in the city.” Dipper heard Manisa murmur something to her bed partner and the squeaking of bedsprings followed.

“Give me a minute,” Manisa muttered, too quiet for a human to hear. Dipper waited patiently; after all, the one thing he had plenty of was time. It took about five minutes before Manisa spoke into the phone again, voice cleared of sleep and insistent. “A hunter? Singular?”

“Just one. To my knowledge. I don't think that she's here for us,” he told her. Turning his head, he watched the lights in the café flicker on.

“You don't?” There was quiet relief in Manisa's voice. “Then what could she possibly be here for?”

“A feral vampire was sloppily decapitated in the Oldstown graveyard, and brought to Calhoun.”  Dipper ran a hand through his hair, shifting his weight on to his other foot. Manisa let out a small noise, uncertain. “Decapitation is difficult and dangerous, which means that she was unprepared.”

“A feral vampire?” Manisa demanded, and Dipper heard the clatter of pans smacking against each other. “You're kidding.” Her previous inquiry had been forgotten in light of the new information.

“Cleaners found him, Manisa,” he told her, voice becoming quiet. “They're the ones who identified him as feral.”

“That's impossible. I haven't heard of feral vampires in at least a hundred years,” Manisa argued. “Why didn't you say that at first?”

“Because I can hardly believe it myself,” Dipper hissed. He tugged on his curls, teeth slipping and sliding together in a sharp grit. “The threat was taken care of, but we need to find the vampire responsible for the feral fledgling. Preferably before the hunter does.”

“If the victim's blood was corrupted enough to create a feral, then it's possible that the sire consumed enough to become feral himself,” Manisa muttered. “And a hunter that was unprepared to take down a vampire—that suggests that she's not a vampire hunter at all.” Dipper nodded, toeing the ground with a bare foot. He curled his toes up, catching loose pavement between them. “But in light of this knowledge, we would have to assume she's looking for the sire as well.”

“For the same reason as we should be,” Dipper added. “The sire could be in danger, and could  _become_  a danger.” He shifted again, mildly irritated at the constant honking behind him now. A screech of tires as someone pulled off to the shoulder behind him. “At least a regular hunter isn't going to go around slaughtering vampires. That's a positive.” His ears perked up as a familiar voice called his name. Turning around, he saw Bill on the side of the road, looking horrified. Dipper lifted a hand in greeting, tacking on a soft smile before pointing at his phone. “You know how they are, kind of live and let live folk.”

“They certainly aren't as aggressive as the specialists,” Manisa agreed reluctantly. “I'll send out word that there's a vampire hunter in town all the same—it's about time to put a little fear back into the community.”She paused. “Thank you for calling me, Dipper. I'll have a word with the cleaners and get back to you if I find anything noteworthy.”

“Thanks. It's been bothering me.” He pinched the bridge of his nose as Bill shouted at him from the other side of the highway. “I have to go, some human looks like he's about to walk into traffic to save my life.” Manisa let out a startled laugh.

“I should have figured you were out in the middle of the highway again.” The smile was obvious in her voice. “It's been nice, hearing your voice again.”

 “The feeling is mutual, Manisa.” He pulled the phone from his ear and hung up with a soft click. Frowning at Bill's frantic behaviour, he stuffed his hands into his pockets and darted back across the long stretches of asphalt. When he reached the shoulder, strong arms pulled him as far from the road as physically possible.

“What are you  _doing_?” Bill demanded, voice an octave higher from panic. Slender fingers grabbed Dipper's shoulders, digging into the skin there. “I told you to _call me_. I told you to call me if you felt like this.” The teacher was so close, his scent was overwhelming. Dipper pushed forward, wrapping his arms around the older man and nuzzling against his neck. Bill let out a squeak of fear. “Dipper? What are you doing?” The vampire froze. What was he doing? He was a two-hundred year old, man-killing, bloodsucking, immortal _parasite_  living off the human race. He wasn't supposed to be pressing his face into Bill's neck, pining after him like some kind of affection-starved puppy.

“I really don't have a good explanation,” Dipper muttered. “Can I stay here? Just for a minute.” Bill carefully wrapped his arms around Dipper, patting his back awkwardly.

“Yeah. But just for a minute,” Bill murmured with a soft sigh.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!
> 
> Song for this chapter:  
> I Think I'm In Love by Kat Dahlia
> 
> My beta is EmberGlows :3
> 
> Want to stay updated? Click [here](http://everyday-im-preaching.tumblr.com/) to stay in the know!


	7. Cantaloupe

_The godly has perished from the earth,_

_and there is no one upright among mankind;_

_they all lie in wait for blood,_

_and each hunts the other with a net._

_-Micah 7:2_

“Do you want to talk about it?” Bill asked gently; he was leading Dipper to the kitchen table, urging him to take a seat. “It'll make you feel better if you do.”

“You're very confused.” _It's kind of cute_ , he mused. “What's it going to take to convince you that I'm not trying to kill myself?” A frown tugged at Bill's lips and he let go of Dipper's shoulder so that he could putter into the kitchen. “Bill, please, listen to me when I say that I don't want to die. I'm not depressed.”

“You have stood at that intersection—the same one you were in the  _middle_  of tonight—for the past five months.” Bill was opening the freezer, shifting the contents around. “And that scares me, Dipper. I don't know what spurred you to stay this last time, to let me  _talk_  to you. But I feel like it's because you wanted help.” A tub of ice cream appeared in Bill's hand. “You're just too stubborn to admit it.”

Dipper intended to say something, to try and soothe the human’s fears. But his mind caught on what Bill had said—he'd been going out to the same intersection for _five months._  What had drawn him there? Surely it had to have been something.

“Bill, when did you move here?” Dipper asked, mouth screwed into a frown. Bill let out a quiet hum—his back was turned to Dipper.

“Huh? Well, I'd say about six months ago.” Bill sounded a bit confused, but answered the question all the same. He turned to Dipper, eyebrows furrowed in concern. “At the tail end of the last semester.” He set the carton of ice cream down in front of him, folding and tucking the flaps. His eyes drifted downward. “I saw you, the day I first moved in here. In that little grocery store on Seventh.” Dipper's head snapped up to look at Bill.

For a few moments, the human said nothing more. Instead, he moved about the kitchen, putting up the ice cream; when Bill walked back into the dining room, he had two bowls of vibrantly yellow ice cream, neatly scooped into white and blue porcelain. Setting them on the table, he let out a quiet sigh.

“Natty's,” Dipper supplied after a moment. “I didn't buy anything—but you were in the breakfast aisle. Looking at tea.”The vampire furrowed his eyebrows. Bill scooteda bowl over to Dipper, keeping his eye focused on the teenager. His mind provided the rest of the memory of him—of looking at Bill, noting the small tin of orange tea he'd had in his hand. Dipper had intended to eat Bill. Yet he couldn't remember what had stopped him. Bill nodded at him.

Dipper was  _horrified_  of what this information suggested. Now that he'd remembered the grocery store, his mind tossed memory after memory of Bill at him. At the park, the museum---the run down gas station on the outskirts of town. He pressed a palm to his forehead.  _He'd been stalking Bill_. Unintentionally, of course. But he  _had_.On one hand, the behaviour was cringeworthy. On the other, it solidified his intentions.

“I don't like lemon,” Dipper told him, pushing the bowl of ice cream away and pressing his forehead against the table. Bill clicked his tongue, standing from the table and grabbing the vampire’s bowl. Dipper wanted to slam his head against the wood beneath it, but he'd only break it. “Bill, I--” He sighed, standing from the table. “--I don't know where to begin.”

“Wherever you want to,” Bill told him, placing the bowl beside the sink. “I'll listen to whatever you have to say.” Dipper walked over to the bookshelf, looking once again at the pile of small knick-knacks. Bill went back to the freezer and pulled the box back out.

“Do you wear these?” Dipper questioned, picking up the reading glasses. Tilting his head to look at Dipper, the teacher chuckled.

“I wear reading glasses, but those aren't mine,” Bill replied before turning back to the quickly melting ice cream. “They belonged to a friend of mine--” Bill's breath caught—barely, but Dipper heard it. “--They, uh, left them behind. Never came back to get them.”

“It sounds like you need someone to talk to more than I do,” Dipper offered, neatly folding the reading glasses and setting them upon the mess of triangles. They were thrown atop the bookcase by a haphazard hand. Bill snorted.

“Says the kid who walked into traffic,” Bill accused. Dipper rolled his eyes, just in time to hear a sharp rapping on the door. The history teacher frowned, turning his head once more. “Huh. I wasn't expecting anyone.”

“I didn't know you had enough friends to expect anyone,” Dipper teased, noting the semi-mess that was beginning near the sink—Bill was in the middle of putting the ice cream back into its previous container. “I'll get it.”

“You sure?” Bill asked, yet he turned his head back so that he could focus on his task.

“Yeah, I mean. What are they going to do? Shoot me?” the vampire teased, sticking his hands into his pockets. He started when he didn't feel the dime there.

After a moment or two of checking around the table and his feet—and another sharp rap at the door—he concluded that he must have dropped it in the middle of the highway.

“Oi, I'm coming,” Dipper muttered, shuffling to the door. He'd barely reached it when he jerked his head up to the sound of the hammer of a gun. The smell of gunpowder and cigarettes, old and cold on the air. Dead. He inhaled deeply, laying his hand on the door handle. There were three of them, and they were getting impatient. Dipper curled his fingers around the brass.

The resounding crack as a round of birdshot radiated through his chest was enough to make him recoil—and make Bill cry out in a broken, ugly sob.But he still dropped behind the kitchen counter at the sound of fire. Dipper's hand snapped up, wrapping around the barrel of the gun and yanking it away from the owner.

Without warning, Dipper brought it up and slammed the butt of the gun into the man's nose. A sick sense of pleasure rocketed through the vampire at the resounding crack and the bubbled, gurgling breath that the man took as he fell backwards and onto his partners. Dipper slammed the door shut and turned the deadbolt.

“Stop crying,” Dipper ordered, grabbing the edge of the couch and hauling it in front of the door. “They used birdshot—they weren't intending to kill whomever answered the door. They wanted to incapacitate them.” The sound behind the counter stopped and a curious, blond head began to pop up over it. “Keep your head down, you cantaloupe,” Dipper snapped; the slight stinging in his abdomen had already subsided.

 “Cantaloupe? Really?” Bill demanded as Dipper slid around the bar, crouching beside the human.

“You remind me of one. You know, about to taste like rotting meat if you don't keep your head down?” Dipper told him, peeking out from behind the bar as he heard a loud thud. “They really don't like you, do they?” he muttered as the men outside attempted to break down the door.

“Considering this is the second time they've tried to kill me this month, I'd say no,” Bill responded. “And are we not going to talk about the fact that you're not bleeding? You were shot _point blank_ and you're not even  _bleeding_.”

“Is that really the biggest question you're asking right now?” the vampire demanded, wincing as the wood of the door cracked. “Look, you need to call the cops. Now.” Another angry, sharp crack. “Do you have a gun?”

“No, I mean no on both accounts. I can't call the police and I don't own a gun.”

“Are you kidding me? There are people trying to break into your house to  _kill_  you. And you think you can't call the cops?” Dipper asked him, utterly bewildered; he couldn't bring himself to lecture the human though, not with the pitiful, frightened look that had ingrained itself into his features. “You stay here. Don't get shot.”

 “Wait, where are you going?” Bill demanded as Dipper stood up.

“I'm going to save your dumb ass,” the vampire replied, pulling a few knives from the wooden block on the counter. Gunfire peppered through the window, missing Dipper altogether. The door gave on the next, forceful blow and the intruders nearly tripped over themselves as they collided with the couch. One of the wooden handled knives—a paring knife, Dipper thought—soared through the air, crunching through bone, right between the eyes of the man who'd had his nose broken.

 A choked gasp left him as he fell.

“Should have stopped while you were ahead,” Dipper muttered, ducking back down as a spray of fire ate into the couch and the front of the counter. Bill looked about ready to wet himself.

“Did you just use a paring knife to kill a man?” Bill hissed, mouth open in a mortified expression. “Dipper,  _answer me_.” Instead of answering, Dipper slipped out from behind the counter when the enemy fire subsided, darting across tile and bloodstained carpet to dig the sharp end of a butcher knife into the chest of an unsuspecting attacker. Gripping the back of the man's neck, he forced him to double over, withdrawing the blade before shoving it back in—Dipper couldn't tell if the man screamed or just let out a soft groan as his lungs filled with blood.

The shot fired into Dipper's shoulder sent him backwards, knocking against the kitchen table. Fangs and claws lengthened, a low hiss leaving his mouth at the surviving man. White had flooded his eyes, robbing them of colour and visibly upsetting the wielder of the gun.

“I don't like playing with humans,” Dipper's voice was grating and eerily ghostlike, like the sound of pipes releasing steam in the midst of the night. The man stumbled back, firing off another shot. Expecting it, Dipper stood still, letting the bullet tear through quickly healing muscle and bone.

It was far too easy to disarm the fumble-fingered, shaking human. Pulling the gun from calloused, thick fingers, Dipper shoved it up against the man's chest and tugged the trigger repeatedly, emptying what was left into the human’s chest. There wasn't even time to choke out a cry for him as he collapsed to the floor, blood seeping into what was left of his shirt. Dipper let out a small groan as he realised his jacket was _soaked_  in blood. He tugged it off, muttering about the neighbours filing a noise complaint when he heard a soft mutter behind him.

Bill was sitting on the floor, staring up at him in disbelief. Dipper opened his mouth, trying to think of some way to explain the carnage, but Bill held up a hand.

“No, wait. Wait, let me rationalise this.”The human swallowed. “You live alone in a large home. There are no photos on the walls and I haven't seen hide nor hair of parents.” He pointed at the bloody mess that his living room had become. “You were shot a minimum of four times, direct hits. Blood spray. And yet you've already healed. Combine that with pale skin, the whole Moonlight look you've got going on with the fangs and claws.” He licked his lips nervously.

“You watch Moonlight?” Dipper questioned, cocking an eyebrow at him.

“I am really gay for Jason Dohring,” Bill supplied with a shrug. 

 “Oh, yeah. I mean he makes an okay vampire, I guess,” the vampire allowed, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

“But you...” Bill struggled to his feet, using the counter to heave himself up. “...You make a better one. You're a vampire, aren't you?” Dipper nodded, lips pulling into a frown. “An  _old_  one.”

“Is that a problem?” the immortal almost demanded, immediately chastising himself for being so aggressive. Bill was within a foot of him, his lips stretching into an unfathomably joyful grin.

 “No. It actually helps me out with a bit of a moral dilemma. You see, now I'm not afraid of going to jail for this.” Dipper let the human sneak the arm around his waist, trying not to smile when lips covered his in a chaste kiss. It was so absurdly gentle that Dipper couldn't help but grin. “Is this okay?”

 “Well, I'm not going to kill you for it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My beta is EmberGlows :D
> 
> Song for this chapter:  
> The Ruse and the Caper by Coyote Theory
> 
> Want to stay updated? Click [here](http://everyday-im-preaching.tumblr.com/) to stay in the know!


	8. Microwavable Dinner

_What is mankind that you are mindful of them, human_ _beings,_

_That you care for them?_

_You have made them a little lower then the angels_

_And crowned them with glory and honour._

_-Psalms 8:4-5_

Dipper surged up to kiss Bill again, locking their mouths in something much heavier. Much more  _promising_. Bill stumbled back as his arms tightened around the vampire, opening his mouth to let a tongue stumble in, pressing against his cheeks and tasting every bit of him. Bill let out a soft moan as he was shoved up against the counter.

“Oh man,” Bill breathed when he was let up for air. He smelled so damn good. Dipper gnashed his teeth, the scent of cinnamon even stronger than before. He wanted to sink his teeth into the sun-kissed skin of Bill's neck and  _drink_  until bursting--

Dipper tore himself away with a hiss, slamming himself into Bill's kitchen table. The minute pain was enough to bring him back to his senses. He couldn't drink from Bill, not right now. He was injured—he'd lost a lot of blood in the fight and Dipper would no doubt drain the human dry. Anger caused him to slam a fist into the wooden table, a visible crack travelling along it

“Woah, don't break the table. It's an antique,” Bill squeaked, shuffling over to lay a hand on Dipper's shoulder. “Did I do something wrong?” There was still a slight pant in his voice and damn him straight to hell it was hot.

“Yes. I've lost a lot of blood. I'm thirsty.” Dipperpressed a hand to his forehead. “I have to get to my house.” The hunger was building in him now that he'd acknowledged it. Bill drew his bottom lip into his mouth.

“I mean, I'm a viable blood source,” Bill offered, lifting a hand to rub against his neck. “If you wanted.” Dipper let out a quiet snarl that had the human stepping back.

“Do you want to die? Because that's how you  _die_ , Bill. Don't ever offer your blood to a vampire   when they're injured.” He pushed off of the table, running his tongue along sharp fangs. “I need to call the cleaners for this mess. And  _you_  have to come with me.” He curled his finger in a come hither motion.

“Wait, cleaners?”

“Yeah, they're a religious group amongst vampires that take care of messes like  _this_.” Dipper gestured at the dead bodies. “Before your neighbours call the police. The gunfire was pretty inconspicuous.” his tone was sarcastic as he stepped over one of the corpses, making a small, disgusted noise. “And as for why you're coming with me, well.” Dipper shrugged. “The cleaners might think you're part of the mess otherwise.”

 

 

“Was it just me, or did the, uh 'cleaners' sound a bit too friendly over the phone?” Bill questioned as he sat at Dipper's kitchen table, drumming his fingers on the polished wood. Dipper said nothing as he popped a mug of refrigerated blood into the microwave; he  _hated_  having to microwave dinner, but he couldn't risk leaving Bill alone long enough to hunt, and he certainly couldn't drink from the human. Not just yet. “What are they anyway? I know you said they were a religious group, but what does that have to do with cleaning up dead bodies?” Dipper pursed his lips, before nodding. If he wanted this relationship to work, he had to tell Bill  _everything_.

“Cleaners are a special sect of vampires that believe that we, as vampires, are tasked with a higher purpose.” The microwave beeped at him and he removed the mug. He brought it to his lips, shuddering as the blood slipped between his lips and down his throat. Dipper didn't even care if it was more hot than lukewarm, it was good. _I guess it's true—everything tastes better when you're hungry._  He muttered inwardly.

 “Higher purpose?” Bill questioned, watching Dipper tilt the cup back and forth like a seesaw, hungrily consuming the blood.

“Killing humans,” Dipper answered, taking a seat opposite Bill. “Apparently the cleaners believe that the act of killing humans, by draining them of blood or otherwise, allows their souls to be freely returned to the Lord.” He waved a hand in the air as he sipped the blood now, rolling it on his tongue and relishing in its thick, rich taste. Dipper tried to avoid the slight, plastic taste that seemed to linger with packaged blood.

“That's insane,” Bill whispered, eye wide. The vampire shrugged, licking his lips clean. “Do you believe that?” Dipper shrugged again, curling his fingers around the handle of his cup.

“Whether I believe it or not doesn't really matter, does it?” Dipper’s reply was soft and uncertain. “No one, not even the undead, knows what happens after you die. And if—and that's a pretty big _if--_   someone ends my existence, then I don't think I'll be coming back to tell you.”  He pointed at Bill, eyes crinkling in amusement. A small laugh escaped the human, quickly turning into a yawn.  _Cute_.

Bill flashed a glance at his watch.

“It's already one in the morning,” Bill muttered unhappily, bringing a hand up to rub at his eyes. Dipper couldn't help but grin, watching the human fall prey to sleepiness. It slipped into his voice and added a slight air to the even tenor. “I have to teach a class at school tomorrow.”

“I have a bed, you know,” Dipper offered, playing with his mug. Bill cocked an eyebrow at Dipper. “And yes, I sleep in it. Vampires  _sleep_.”

“Will you be joining me in bed?” the teacher teased, eye slanting coquettishly. The vampire rolled his eyes, standing from his chair. Bill's face twinged, mouth drooping slightly with nerves. “Is that a yes?”

“Not in the way you think, Bill,” Dipper told him, voice bland. “Come on, you need to get some sleep.” Bill rose from his chair, a faint blush dusting the top of his cheeks. “What time do you need to be at the school in the morning?”

“Seven-thirty,” Bill replied, voice a soft mutter. “Ah, shit. My car. We took yours over here.”

“Don't worry about it. I'll drive you,” the vampire told him, realising he was still covered in blood.  

“Oh no.” The denial was instant. “You can't just drop me off, I mean—if they see someone your age dropping me off for work.” He swallowed as Dipper simply stared at him, eyebrow raising in question. “Uh, I mean, your apparent age. They might think the worst, and… and… You don't understand how hard it is to keep a job in town  _already_.”

“Especially with your history, huh?” Dipper questioned, turning on a heel and beginning to climb the stairs. A stuttered, offended noise escaped Bill and steps, heavy and aggressive, followed the vampire. “Look, I'm just trying to understand why people want you dead. Try to see what I'm up against.” Bill's footsteps paused.

“What you're--” The teacher's voice choked up, before he cleared his throat roughly. Dipper had reached the top of the stairs; he turned and looked at the human. “-- You intend to keep protecting me?”  T he vampire blinked, eyes wide and mildly amused at the question.

“I do,” Dipper responded, flashing his fangs. “But you've got to throw me some kind of bone here, Bill. I need to know what _you_  know.” The human drew his bottom lip into his mouth, worrying it. Dipper pursed his lips, then nodded. Humans were so picky about when they shared information—it was equally amusing and exasperating, considering how short their lifespan was. “You don't have to tell me tonight.” Bill's eye flooded with relief, face relaxing from it's tense, almost frightened state.

“Thank you,” he breathed, exhaling softly.

 

Dipper dropped Bill off at his door, muttering something about the shower being open first if he'd like. Bill had declined, but had asked if he could borrow something to sleep in—Dipper agreed, almost too quick, eager to get his hands on something that Bill had worn. Creepy as it may have been, he didn't feel the least bit guilty about it.

“I'm going to go shower and get the rest of this blood off of me. I expect you to be asleep when I get back,” Dipper ordered, leaning against the door frame. “I'll swing by your house later this evening and pick something up for you to wear tomorrow.”

 “Thanks, mom,” Bill chimed, sitting down on the large bed—Dipper felt a quick burst of shame as he realised the state of his bed. Mismatched quilts were layered upon each other; some were faded in colour and showed hours of wear, whilst others were vibrant and alive as if stitched the day before. He was untying his shoes when he paused. “Thank you, really. Jokes aside, you've saved my life. And uh, let me kiss you. And haven't killed me yet.”

“Yet,” Dipper teased.

Time moved slower than normal, in the bathroom. His shower took years, and drying off took decades. Every minute seemed like it heaped another lifetime atop his own. The idea of slipping into bed with Bill was tempting him like a harpy laying amongst jagged rocks. But Dipper knew better. Instead, he peeked into his room to find Bill fast asleep.

“You're adorable,” Dipper murmured into the room. “Do you know that?” The human shifted on the bed, letting out a quiet snore as he flopped over, taking up a good portion of the bed as his limbs spread out over the quilts. Shaking his head, the vampire left the room.

“Dipper?” Gideon's voice was tired and worn, though that bubbly cheer still lined it. His southern drawl was thicker than ever when he was half-asleep. “Ain't often I hear from you this late. Somethin' goin' on? You okay?”

“No, I'm  _not_ ,” Dipper nearly hissed into the phone, taking the steps two at a time as the night’s events settled in his mind. “I was shot tonight.” He swung around the corner and slipped into the kitchen.

“Oh no, puddin' do you need some help?” Gideon asked immediately. Genuine concern pierced through his voice, honeyed and horrified in the same breath. “What cocksure bastard thought shootin' you was a good idea?”

“They weren't aiming to shoot me. They were after a man named Bill Cipher.” Dipper spelled it out, for clarity. “You ever hear of him?”

“I've heard of him, but not cause anyone wants to kill 'im.” There was a pause. “Been years though. Came in to identify a body in  early 2013. I only remember him cause he had this look on his face, like he was lost. Not like, in a physical sense. Like he'd lost his place or somethin', or woke up somewhere he didn't recognise.”

“Did he identify the body? Who was it?”

“Nah, said he never saw the person before. Or said he couldn't remember it, at least. Labelled it as a John Doe and closed the case.” Gideon paused yet again. “Funny 'nough, there's been this woman sniffing around about that case. Real pretty, had this lingering scent of gunpowder. Normally wouldn't think too much of it, but she wore it like a perfume.” Dipper could hear the shudder in the pathologists voice. “Reminds me of that old song Jolene. Hauntin'.  Asked for the case files. Told her she'd have to go to the police for 'em. She never told me her name, actually. Weird.” Dipper wanted to throttle Gideon. How hadn't he asked for the woman's  _name_? 

“Thank you, Gideon,” Dipper finally settled on. “Do you still have your contacts?”

“My contacts? You know I got out of that game a long time ago,” Gideon immediately defended. After a moment though, he spoke again, quieter. “You need to know something in particular?”

“Yeah. Find out who wants Bill dead. And quietly.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!
> 
> Song for this chapter:  
> Wolves At The Door by Bad Seed Rising  
> '  
> My beta is EmberGlows :3
> 
> Want to stay updated? Click [here](http://everyday-im-preaching.tumblr.com/) to stay in the know!


	9. In Need Of

 

_Everyone who drinks of this water will be thirsty again._

_-John 4:13_

 

Bill was blinking sleepily when Dipper woke him up in the morning. The look on his face told Dipper that he hadn't expected to wake up to a gentle kiss, let alone a warm meal. The dazed smile on the human’s face earned him another kiss; it was sweeter, like the foam that marshmallows make when they melt on the surface of hot cocoa.

"Did you cook this?" Bill asked when he regained his ability to speak. Dipper snorted.

“No, I didn't. I'm a vampire.” He sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the thick curtained window as if he could see through it. “Why would I know how to cook?”

Dipper had stopped by a small, locally owned restaurant that began serving breakfast at the crack of dawn. It'd been difficult to pick something from the carb-heavy menu, and in the end Dipper caved and asked the owner what she thought would be best. It turned out to be a large order of pancakes smothered in syrup, hashbrowns, a side of scrambled eggs and a large black coffee.

“You could have learned to impress your victims,” Bill teased, scarfing down his food with the appetite of a starving man. “Man, this is good, though.”

“I'll keep that in mind,” the vampire murmured. “I brought a couple suits for you.” He nodded to the dress clothes laid on the end of the bed. “I'm not sure if you have some sort of system you normally dress according too, but I hope there's something worth wearing there.”

“I'm sure there is,” Bill managed through a bite of egg. Dipper made a disgusted noise.

“Don't talk with your mouth full,” the vampire lectured, wiping a bit of food from Bill's cheek. “I brought some of your toiletries as well—they're in the bathroom down the hall.” He dug into his pockets, pulling out a set of orange medicine bottles. Bill paused, blinking at them. “You need the antibiotics for your eye, right? The percocet is untouched, but I wanted to make sure you had it. Just in case.”

Bill cautiously took them from the vampire, lips pursed. Dipper tried to catch his eye, but the human refused to look up at him. Instead, he gently unscrewed the top of his medicine bottle and shook out two of the pills.

“You think of everything, don't you?” Bill murmured, voice sounding thick. “You barely even know me, how can you think of _everything_?” The human let out a soft laugh, shaking his head. “Yet you have sticky notes on the damn door about remembering to put on shoes.”

“Are you okay?” Dipper asked, keeping his voice soft. Bill shook his head again. “Don't take those with coffee, I'll get you some water from the sink.” The human nodded.

In all of his two-hundred-something odd years, Dipper had never been so confused. All he'd done was pick up the bottles from the nightstand—it wasn't like he'd brought Bill the cure for cancer. Taking the steps two at a time, he near-jogged into the kitchen, humming off-tune.

Returning back to his bedroom, half-full glass in hand, he was greeted with a sight that he was all too happy to take in. Bill had finished his breakfast and stripped off the shirt that Dipper had let him borrow—he was standing in his boxers now, cheeks flushed a soft pink.

“Uh, hi. Didn't expect you to be back so fast,” Bill told him. His eye was free of the soft, white bandage now and Dipper could clearly see the heavy, still red wound that had begun to scar over around the edges of his eye. “I got to the eyewash station in time,” Bill teased; Dipper barely heard him, letting his gaze travel down the warm, lightly toned stomach and skim the human’s waistband. _Yum_. Dipper could see the outline of Bill's dick against the fabric of his underwear and snapped his arms behind his back.

“Water.” Dipper offered the glass to him, finding himself thirsty. As Bill downed the pills, he briefly let himself imagine how warm Bill's skin would be beneath his lips. Pulsing with life and arousal as Dipper knelt between the humans knees. He'd make the _prettiest_ noises, face contorted in pleasure as Dipper sucked him off, fingers twisted deep into the vampire’s hair.

“You okay?” Bill suddenly asked, breaking Dipper out of his fantasy. He grinned sharply at the human, fangs having unintentionally lengthened. The human let out a nervous laugh. “Hungry?”

“No,” Dipper answered, taking the glass back and shuffling his weight from foot to foot. “Bill, I think that you should take up temporary residency here. At least until I get his figured out.”

Time stretched between the two as Bill simply blinked at the vampire, looking unsure.

“You want me to stay in your house until you kill the guys trying to kill me.” It was a question in the guise of a statement. Dipper nodded.

“It'd be safer for you to stay here, where I can keep an eye on you,” the vampire replied without missing a beat. He risked a step forward, grinning softly. He watched as Bill relaxed. “I know you're an adult, and I'm not going to force you to stay.”

“I think I'll stay,” Bill told him after a moment, lips twisting up into a cunning smile. “I mean, living is pretty high on my list of priorities. And the way I figure it, I have a better chance of survival if I stay with you.” He paused, smile dropping from his face. “About the kisses.”

“What about them?” Dipper asked, cocking his head to the side. He briefly let himself entertain the idea of Bill regretting the small, affectionate gestures. The human fiddled with his fingers, heart rate spiking as he was flooded with nerves.

“I, uh. They were heat of the moment, yeah.” He ran a hand through his hair, taking a deep breath. “But you really are pretty cute and I mean, I'd like to kiss you. More.” Dipper let out a laugh, wondering if this human was going to break him. “I just don't want you to think it's creepy because you look the same age of my students.”

“Have you ever had the desire to kiss your students?” Dipper questioned. Bill's head snapped up, lips raising in a defensive snarl.

 “No,” he denied vehemently. “Never.”The vampire briefly questioned why he was so aggressive in his denial, but took a mental note to investigate that later instead of confronting him now. “I just don't want you to think I'm some perverted pedophile.”

 “Bill, you didn't make a move on me until you saw me slaughter three men,” Dipper told him, folding his arms over his chest. “If anything, I should be concerned because a normal man would have ran, not gathered me up in his arms like you did.”Measured steps brought Dipper within inches of the human, eyes soft.

“You have to admit that killing those thugs was pretty impressive,” Bill teased, slowly encasing the vampire in his arms. The soft weight around Dipper's hips was comfortable. “You're okay with this?”

“I am.” Dipper pressed a gentle kiss to the hollow of Bill's throat. “You don't have to be worried. Let me do that.” He leaned up, kissing Bill's chin, chuckling as a heat built up from where his lips touched. “After all, you aren't the only one who wants to kiss more.”

        

 

“I'm not dropping you off a block from the school,” Dipper told Bill; the history teacher was bouncing in his seat, anxiety flooding his veins. “No one is going to question me taking you to school.”

“They will, I promise. I mean, my class is so nosey. One of them will see me, and then it'll circulate that I'm playing sugar daddy to some kid and--”

“Bill, if anyone is going to be a sugar daddy here, it's going to be me,” Dipper interrupted. “They're kids, they're going to spread rumours either way. If the administration wants to go digging around in your personal life based on some high school girl's word, then let them.”

 “I can't afford to get fired. I just got this job,” Bill whined.

 “Why do you think you'd get fired?” The car slowed, and Bill's fingers clenched the briefcase in his lap so hard that they turned white. “I'll take care of any problem that comes up.”

“You can do that? Just wave your hand and problems disappear?” the human asked, teeth gritting together as Dipper put the car in park. Dipper shrugged, briefly taking his hands off the wheel to gently slap them against Bill's cheeks. The human looked at him, lips pursed.

“Occasionally,” Dipper teased, leaning up and capturing Bill's lips in a gentle kiss. Bill almost pulled away; his head tugged back for a second—and then he was returning the kiss. Just as soft and sweet. “You have a good day in there. I'll be back to pick you up around four.” Bill opened his door, making a face as cold air brushed against his freshly shaved face.

“Mr. Cipher.” An excited call came from the doorway, where a student stood. Her hair bounced as she moved, a muted, smoky grey. Dipper raised an eyebrow, looking up at the dissatisfied look on Bill's face. “Missed you yesterday.”

 “Bill, correct me if I'm wrong, but aren't unnatural hair colours banned from public school?”  Dipper questioned, pointing at the girl. Bill let out a disgusted sigh and hauled his briefcase out and tucked it underneath his arm.

 “Yeah, they are. I'll see you later, Dipper.” Bill raised a hand at the student. “Ms. Aprelle--” Dipper shook his head as the human jogged across the dew-heavy grass to lecture the student on the chemically treated hair. She darted away from the approaching teacher, the double doors slamming behind her.

“Missed you yesterday?” Dipper repeated, rubbing at his chin. His mind circled back to the conversation that they'd had on the stairs and the forceful, emphatic way Bill had rejected the idea of being attracted to his students. Putting the car in reverse, Dipper’s lips twitched into a thoughtful frown.

 He carded a hand through his hair, tugging on the thick curls. He was exhausted, and it was impeding his ability to think. With a sharp turn of the wheel, he pulled out of the school's parking lot and onto the cracked blacktop—sleep first. Then he'd deal with the mystery that was Bill Cipher.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Sorry this is late! 
> 
> My beta is EmberGlows :3
> 
> Song for this chapter:  
> Better Go by Mal Blum
> 
> Want to stay updated? Click [here](http://everyday-im-preaching.tumblr.com/) to stay in the know!


	10. Descending Into Dante's Inferno

_With patience a ruler may be persuaded,_

_and a soft tongue will break a bone._

_-Proverbs 25:15_

Sleep didn’t come easy to Dipper; it seemed like hours passed as he attempted to settle on the thick quilts of his bed. Bill’s scent surrounded and drowned him in a heady ocean of cinnamon—but there was something different about it. Something sweet beneath the spice and citrus that had Dipper shoving his face into the pillow in order to try and identify it. Dipper knew that scent, but he couldn’t quite place it.

After a rough hour of constant readjusting and frustrated wiggling, Dipper managed to fall into a somewhat fitful sleep. It was heavy with dreams and unintelligible whispers. Voices spoke in hissing secrets, their mouths full of jagged teeth and lies. Eyes fluttering open, panic settled across his chest for naught but a moment before he pushed it away. The vague memory of his mother’s voice rolling over him lingered in the forefront of his mind, refusing to be chased away. Dipper tossed the blankets away and swung his legs over the side of the bed, grumbling to himself about the time and running his tongue over the backs of his teeth. His mouth tasted like burnt plastic.

A hot shower later, the music of Dipper’s ringtone was pouring from his phone and into the empty air of the bedroom. Half-dressed and hair still covered with a towel, he picked up the call, interrupting Blue October in the middle of their chorus.

“Pines,” Dipper greeted; normally, Manisa would have chuckled at the formal way he answered his phone, but today he was met with a yawn of silence. “Manisa, you there?” he tried, brows furrowing together.

 “Dipper, you know that information you wanted?” Manisa murmured, voice quiet like she feared that someone was listening in on the two. Dipper straightened, one of his hands gently rubbing at his curls with a towel. “I’ve got it. But it’s _incredibly_ sensitive. I’d prefer to discuss it in person.” There was a pause. “How fast do you think you can get here? You still live in that shabby two story, don’t you? So maybe twenty?”

“It’s not shabby. It’s homey,” Dipper told her, walking over to his dresser. Sliding the old oaken drawer open, he picked through the various, inexpensive coloured tees. One of the advantages of looking sixteen was that nobody questioned your wardrobe. If anything, other vampires applauded the type of vampire who was as devoted as Dipper seemed to be when it came to keeping his true nature a secret—but if Dipper was honest with himself, he loved the cheap cotton. “It’s good for laying low—besides, you don’t exactly have room to talk. You sleep on a cot in a library. At least I live in a house.” Manisa snorted at him.

“Now you’re just mincing.” She chastised. “Twenty?”

“Fifteen if I don’t hit traffic.”

 

 

The library that Manisa both lived in and worked at was on the other side of town; it had large, Tuscan order columns that rose up in creamy off-white marble alongside the steps. They stood tall and strong, unintentionally drawing soft murmurs of awe from young and old readers alike as they were shepherded up stone and through double doors.

“Dipper.” Manisa’s voice was far warmer than it had been over the phone; her arms encircled Dipper and drew him into a tight hug to her chest. Dipper returned the hug with equal fervour, catching the cloying, floral scent of the dead that was a tad too strong for Dipper’s nose to handle. “I’m so glad to see you in person—you don’t look a day over sixteen.” She pinched his cheek, accent thick as her eyes crinkled in mirth. He batted the hand away as she continued. “What’s your secret to staying so young?”

“Vampirism,” Dipper teased, taking a seat in front of her desk. Manisa was opening a mini-fridge on the other side of the room. The younger vampire’s eyes widened as he watched her draw out an iridescent, fluted bottle. Inside, blood sloshed against the ridged sides of the glass and Dipper had to swallow down a hungry croak. A set of short brandy glasses came next, balanced precariously in one hand whilst Manisa poured with the other. “Drinking heavy today, are we?” the younger vampire managed out.

“With what I’m about to tell you, you’re going to need it,” Manisa replied, lips barely moving. “Besides, you’re probably hungry. Especially after last night.” She set his glass in front of him, concern finding a home amongst her already solemn features. Dipper waved a hand at her, but took the glass all the same. It was difficult to keep his hand from shaking as he brought the drink to his lips, taking a small sip. The flavour was _divine_.

“I had some pre-packaged stuff at home to tide me over until I could go out hunting,” Dipper said, tongue flicking out and dragging across his top lip. “Don’t worry about last night. It was just some stupid thugs.” The younger vampire watched as Manisa’s shoulders relaxed minutely. “If it had been hunters, I wouldn’t be sitting here,” he added lightly. She nodded, mouth screwing into a frown as she sat down.

Manisa reached to her left and picked up a yellow folder; it had a few loose papers inside of it and nothing else. Lips pursed, she placed it into Dipper’s waiting hands. He opened it, eyebrows shooting up at the gruesome photos inside.

“The cleaners didn’t want me to tell you,” Manisa began, leaning back in her chair. Her eyes were focused on the space above Dipper’s head. “Which is weird—this must be serious if they don’t want you to know. They look up to you. You’re practically their hero.” Dipper rolled his eyes.

“Arguing for their right to remain in the city when they needed safe harbour doesn’t make me a hero—it makes me rational. We’ve saved a lot of lives by letting them make a home here.” Dipper took another drink, relishing the way the blood tasted. Slightly nutty, with the slight hint of whiskey.

“This morning, at two a.m., a vampire was killed,” Manisa told Dipper, ignoring what he’d said. “Decapitated, just like the last one.” Her fingers rose to play with the dime around her neck, fiddling with it. It was near identical to Dipper’s in every way, except for the tiny hole drilled in the top of it to allow for a rope to be thread through. Noting the way he was eying her necklace, she took a moment to open the drawer in front of her. Pulling out a tiny envelope, she offered it to him. “I’m guessing you’d like this back.”

“Thank god,” Dipper murmured, shutting the folder and placing it on the table in order to take the proffered envelope. “I thought I’d lost it.” He shook his head and opened the manila, shaking the coin out and into his palm. Warmth bloomed through him at the sight of the tiny dime. Slipping it into his pocket, he looked back at Manisa. “Was it the same hunter as before?”

“We believe so,” Manisa affirmed. “Except for this vampire had his head removed post-mortem.” She cracked a grin. “Well, as post-mortem as we can get.” Dipper snorted, picking the folder back up and humming at the crudely severed head. It sat on the second step of a short, stone staircase. On the side, the location was scrubbed in white pencil.

Dipper's eyes widened minutely. Calhoun's church. 

“Looks like he was shot.” Dipper muttered, tapping the photo in front of him. “Point blank. Silver bullet.”

“It gets worse.”

“Worse?”

 “He was a feral.” Her voice was quiet with the news, eyes darting away to focus on the swirling pattern of the carpet. The folder nearly slipped from Dipper’s hands as he looked at her, blinking in disbelief. “I _know_ , believe me Dipper.” Her fingers were scratching the desk again, picking at the wood. “When was the last time you encountered a feral vampire? A hundred years ago? A hundred and fifty?” One of her hands rose to card through her hair, tugging at the thick, black locks.

 “Manisa, calm down,” Dipper told her, voice soft. “There’s no need to panic. If there’s an influx of feral vampires, we’ll take care of it.” He was barely hiding his own shock, shoving his own fear somewhere deep inside of him to deal with later.

As if she didn’t hear him, Manisa continued.

“Modern medicine has drastically reduced societies’ capability to produce ferals. Any human sick enough to turn into one is hospitalised.” Her fingers were tugging at her hair now. “The last time this was seen was in 1921, during the diphtheria outbreak.”

“It’s just two,” Dipper soothed, thinking back to 1932, when he’d visited Winnipeg, Canada. Cholera was rampant in the population and more than a few ferals had been crawling around the city. “Lack of access to healthcare and poverty can allow people to slip through the cracks.” He paused, drawing his bottom lip into his mouth to nibble on it. “Now, we have to take in consideration that it might not be the humans, Manisa.” The elder vampire froze.

“Dipper, I don’t…I can’t consider that possibility. If there’s a sleeper— ” She shook her head. “—Dipper, sleepers are a nightmare. An infected sire, walking amongst us. I thought the days of looking over my shoulder and waiting for a knife in the back were over.”

“Those days are never over,” Dipper told her with a frown, crossing his arms over his chest. “We’re in constant danger. And we have to adapt in order to combat that danger. If we don’t, we die, just like every other stubborn asshole before us.” He cocked an eyebrow at her. “And it’d be a damn shame if I don’t get to attend your thousandth birthday party.” This earned him a choked laugh.

“You are a _riot_ , Dipper Pines,” Manisa said; she sat back in her chair, eying Dipper. “So the head was obviously placed in order to get our attention.”

“Obviously,” Dipper agreed. “I think she wants us to do something about it. It’s not a bad idea. And I think it’d be an even better one to seek this hunter out and have a chat with her.” Manisa let out a quiet hum at the suggestion.

“Would you be willing to speak with her?” she asked, chair swivelling so that she no longer faced Dipper. The younger vampire shrugged.

“I don’t see why I wouldn’t be. But I don’t know if I’ll get to it today.”

“Big plans?” Manisa questioned, watching a few patrons busy themselves at a table. They had a myriad of nonfiction books suited for a couple college students hoping to get a leg up on a research project.

“Mm, a few,” Dipper told her, also watching the humans joke and play as they settled in for a long evening. “Oh, about that house the cleaners visited for me. The owner is still alive and kicking, so if you could hold off on letting them convert it to some sort of temple, I’d appreciate it.”

“I’ll try my best,” Manisa murmured, cocking her head to the side. A quiet chime pealed from her phone and she picked it up. A smile lit up her face, stretching from ear to ear as she responded to the text. Looking up, she noticed that Dipper was staring. After a moment of prolonged, silent eye contact, she looked away. “I think I love her, you know,” she whispered.

“The last time you thought you loved someone, they became a Catholic priest,” Dipper told her, going to stand from his chair. Manisa clicked her tongue in distaste. “I just want to make sure that you’re sure. Being in a relationship with a human, anyhuman, is dangerous. If you aren’t committed, or ready to commit, you shouldn’t do it.” His mind briefly flashed to his own human, alone at school teaching a small army of children. Manisa let out a sigh.

“You’re like a finely taught parrot, who lives to mock me,” she muttered, crossing her arms over her chest. She pouted for a moment, lips dragging the pock-marked skin of her face down with them. Manisa moved as if she was being weighed down, slowly rising from her chair and picking up the bottle of blood. Turning, she offered it to Dipper. “Take it.” Manisa’s eyes darted to look at her phone before returning to the younger vampire. “I…don’t think I’ll be needing it anymore.” Careful fingers took the bottle from the owner. “And you need to eat better.”

“You don’t need to babysit me,” Dipper murmured, no heat in his voice.

“I’m not. It’s just hard to find vampires that have been around long enough to tell their fangs from their claws,” she told him, greeting him around the side of the desk with another hug. “Be safe out there, sprout.”

“No promises.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, I'M BACK. 
> 
> My beta is EmberGlows :3
> 
> Song for this chapter:  
> Till The Sun Burns Out by [SEBELL]
> 
> Want to stay updated? Click [here](http://everyday-im-preaching.tumblr.com/) to stay in the know!


	11. Statically Electric

_They sacrificed to demons that were no gods,_

_to gods they had never known,_

_to new gods that had come recently,_

_whom your fathers had never dreaded._

_-Deuteronomy 32:17_

 

“I can’t believe you bought so much _tea_ ,” Dipper muttered as he slid the small cardboard boxes onto the shelf in front of him. There were at least a dozen of them, all different brands and flavours. One even came in a small orange tin and smelled remarkably familiar; Dipper popped the lid off and nearly dropped the tin at the powerful scent that assaulted his nose. Cinnamon.

“That’s my favourite,” Bill told the vampire as he looked over, grinning widely. They’d dropped by the supermarket after Dipper had picked the teacher up. Bill needed something to eat while he was staying in Dipper’s home. He _was_ human, after all.

“It smells like cinnamon glass,” Dipper offered, tilting the label up to read it. “Hot cinnamon sunset. Black tea with cinnamon, oranges, and sweet cloves.” Dipper arched an eyebrow, nonplussed. “What the hell is a sweet clove?”

“It’s a sweet clove,” Bill teased, abandoning his bags to come over to Dipper. His eyes gently ghosted down Dipper’s back, head tilting minutely as he took the time to appreciate the skinny jeans the vampire had changed into. “It helps to naturally sweeten the tea so you don’t have to add sugar.” Dipper sniffed the tin again. The scent of the tea matched Bill’s scent inexplicably.

Dipper put the lid back on top of the tin before Bill got over; when he was within range, the vampire wrapped his arms around Bill’s neck and dragged the human down, shoving a nose into the dip between his shoulder and neck. The human let out an unmanly squeak at the action, squirming lightly. His heart rate spiked.

“Do you drink a lot of this tea?” Dipper asked, inhaling deeply. It was stronger on Bill, and the oranges were more pronounced. Bill squirmed a bit in his hold, before relaxing. He carefully wrapped his arms around Dipper’s back; his heart still raced beneath his shirt.

“As much as I can afford,” Bill teased. “It’s roughly six dollars a tin and there are only twenty bags inside.” He paused, tightening his grip slightly. Bill gently tilted his head down and nosed the vampire’s hair. “Your nose is really cold.”

“I’m dead. You didn’t expect me to be warm, did you? You want heat, you date a werewolf. Their body temperature will run you out of bed faster than their personality.” Dipper pressed a kiss to the side of Bill’s neck before he slowly pulled away, wiggling his nose. The scent shouldn’t have transferred to the human—that’s not how it worked.

“Do you know that from personal experience?” Bill questioned, arms lingering for a bit longer, not willing to let the immortal go now that he had him. The tone of his voice hinted at jealousy. Dipper rolled his eyes.

 “About the kind of body heat they generate, yes.” He pulled the rest of the way away from Bill, returning to his previous task of putting up the dry goods. “I’ve met a couple, but didn’t know they existed until 1869. April, I think.” He closed the cabinet. “I was at the grand opening of American Museum of Natural History in New York; I can remember the rage in her eyes as she partially shifted in front of me—I was only about seventy then. It was terrifying. I barely knew any other vampires, let alone other supernatural creatures.” Dipper collected the plastic bags, shoving them inside a single one he had off to the side.

 “Wow. Did you kill her?” Bill asked, voice muted with soft reverence. Dipper snorted and shook his head.

“I wasn’t experienced enough to put down a full grown werewolf,” he told the human, handing him the plastic bags. “We ended up skirmishing for a little bit before we caught by a rather ruffled policeman; she was tossed in jail for the evening and I was sent home with a warning not to get into street fights.” He walked over to the kitchen table, grabbing some of the other bags and hauling them over to the counter. “Bailed her out the next morning and bought her a coffee.”

 "You bought her a coffee? After she tried to kill you?” Bill questioned incredulously. Dipper shrugged, beginning to unload a variety of cans. “Why? She could have tried to kill you again.”

 “Vampires and werewolves have been fighting for a long time,” Dipper said, inspecting a can of tuna. “I’ve never quite understood what it was about, if I’m to be honest. I don’t like them, but we’re a set of immortal races with extraordinary abilities—why are we fighting? Together, we could _protect_  each other.”

 “From humans?” Bill asked, opening the fridge; beside the fluted bottle tucked in the door, it was spotless. The human began to load it with milk, cheese, and other chilled items while Dipper thought on the question.

 “Not necessarily,” he finally decided. “Humans as individuals aren’t an issue. Most of you prefer to leave us alone—the less weird your lives are, the happier you are. Ignorance is bliss or whatever.” Dipper furrowed his eyebrows, face darkening. “But then you’ve got humans who think that,for some reason, wanting to live while not being human is some kind of crime. And then you get bands of demon hunters, werewolf killers and…well.” He turned toward Bill, shrugging his shoulders. “Vampire slayers.”  

“Dipper, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bring this up,” Bill apologised immediately; the human was growing anxious. Dipper raised a hand to silence him.

“It just makes it harder to get by. It’s not really a big deal.” He tilted his head up, smiling at the human. The human smiled back, slightly nervous. “Bill. It’s fine. You have questions. I mean, your entire life is about to change drastically. It’s best you know as much about it as possible.”

“I… Yeah, I do. I have a ton of questions. Like a billion of them. They’ve been bouncing around in my head since I woke up this morning. I nearly spilled my coffee _three_ times. Which is twice as often as normal.”

“Are you saying that you normally nearly spill your coffee exactly one and a half times a day? How do you pull off the half?” Dipper questioned. Bill narrowed his eye at the vampire, lips pursing in an attempt not to smile. “If there’s anything specific you want to know, I’m happy to answer the best I can. Which most of the time, isn’t very well. There’s a lot we still don’t know about ourselves. The best we have to explain our condition is the Book of Iscariot.”

“The Book of Iscariot? As in the lost Book of Judas from the Bible?” Bill clarified, eyes knitting together as he closed the fridge. Dipper shook his head.

“No. Judas, while regarded as the father of all vampires, wasn’t the one who wrote it,” he replied, pouring himself into one of the chairs around the kitchen table. The poor sleep he’d gotten that morning, combined with the sunlight he had to endure whilst out and about, had him slumping down in his chair, exhausted. “The original Book of Iscariot was written somewhere in the Bronze Age—we’re talking 3000 to 2000 BCE. No one’s been able to pinpoint the exact year, unfortunately. We just know it was written by a vampire and later translated by someone that wehope was a vampire.”

“Do you know who translated it?” Bill’s voice was back to one of soft awe, eye wide as he took a seat opposite Dipper.

 “No. Well, yes _and_ no. You see, around the year 1000 CE, the book disappeared.” He flicked his fingers out as if to give an example of it disappearing into smoke. “Four hundred years later, a small team of scientists found a single copy— the _last_ copy, if the note in it was correct—stored in the crypt of some long dead Spanish priest; upon further inspection, they did find a page with half a signature. The rest was rubbed away or…” Dipper shrugged. “…The archaeologists — vampires, of course — who found it took it for some sort of religious text, like a vampiric Bible. And then they became the first cleaners.”

 “And you said that not all vampires believe in what it teaches, right?” Dipper laughed at Bill’s question, face lighting up. The more he talked, the less tired he felt.

“Certainly not. It’s an old book.” The vampire offered him a smile. “Vampirism does nothing to change the minds or hearts of atheists.”

“Do… you believe in it?” the human asked; Dipper wanted to pinch his cheeks—they were glowing with glee. And Bill’s smile.It was small, curious, and undeniably _kissable_ , letting teeth peek out occasionally as he listened with a rapt hunger for knowledge. “I know you told me that it really didn’t matter either way to you, but. Do you?”Dipper slipped a hand across the table, and Bill took it hesitantly.

Dipper began to fidget with his fingers, running his nails along the human’s skin. It was soft and warm. Slowly, so not to scare the human, he brought the digits up to his lips and pressed a single kiss to each one of them.

 “I believe that a lot of the stuff it teaches is good. Peaceful existence alongside humans and other races, proper burial for the prey of vampires and…” He paused. “…And other vampires who didn’t make it through the transformation in one piece. I think those are parts that everyone can respect. But I don’t think that we’re giving them any sort of special place in heaven for killing them. I have a copy, if you want to look at it.” Dipper let go of Bill’s hand and stood, wincing as his chair dragged with a cracked whine along the tile. Bill’s eyes snapped up to look at the vampire.

“Are you serious?” Bill asked in a low murmur, eye hopeful. The vampire nodded at him; he went to shove his hands in his jacket pockets, just to have them knock against his thighs instead. Turning back, he saw his jacket hooked over the back of his chair.

“Of course I’m serious,” Dipper replied, wondering when he’d taken the coat off. “It’s not as well-guarded a secret as you might think.” He shrugged his shoulders, letting them rise and fall like the evening tide switching to that of the morn.

Bill hesitated for only a moment before he was on his feet, bouncing on the balls of them with glee. He followed behind Dipper with a happy hum. When they slipped into the living room, the human let out a low whistle of appreciation.

 “Nice,” Bill complimented; Dipper turned to thank the human, just in time to see him stepping on the back of his heels and popping his feet free of his shoes. Sock-covered feet slid along the thick carpet in the centre of the room, the coloured cloth nearly blending in. “I like this rug. Makes the whole room look kind of homey.”

The carpet in question was a dazzling cascade of warmth, yellow and reds twisting together in the shag to create a sunset that ebbed into dark purple edges. Dipper had picked it up at an estate auction a few years back — he’d always intended to move it upstairs, perhaps put it in a sitting room — but had never gotten around to it.

“Are you just going to build up static electricity for the rest of the evening?” Dipper questioned, kneeling in front of the bookcase.

“I’m not sure yet, give me a couple minutes and I’ll decide,” the teacher replied cheerfully, curling his toes in the carpet. “Mm, still not losing its charm.” A heavy, exaggerated sigh left the immortal’s lips as he danced his fingers along the spines of old, weather-beaten books and shiny new paperbacks. The Book of Iscariot was slipped snugly between _Eat, Pray, Love_ and _Topaz_.

“Here we go,” Dipper murmured, tugging the book out. He took a moment to run his fingers along the blank cover. It was bound in thick, black leather and a had a single, blood-soaked ribbon pinned between its pages.

Bill was still playing with the rug, a large, dumb, grin plastered on his face as he did so. Tiny chuckles spilled out of his mouth and into the air, making it hard for Dipper not to smile at the childish antics.

“Bill,” he called after a moment; the human turned his head up, smile never leaving.

  “Oh boy, that sure looks ominous,” the human teased, finally stepping off the carpet and shuddering as his feet touched the cool hardwood — even with socks on, Dipper knew it had to be chilly. “Does it contain the secrets of the universe?”

“You wish,” Dipper chuckled; Bill’s thick fingers gently took the book from his possession. Exhaustion was playing at the edges of Dipper’s mind once again, threatening to steal him away. “I’m going to catch a nap — feel free to read, cook, explore the house. Just don’t leave.”

“Aye, aye, captain,” Bill teased, cracking the book open. Dipper gently walked over to the human, cocking an eyebrow and waiting for him to lift his head from the pages. When he did, Dipper leaned up on the pads of his feet, pressing a kiss to Bill’s cheek. His face burned brightly in response to the affectionate gesture.

"Enjoy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! 
> 
> My beta is EmberGlows!
> 
> Song for this chapter:  
> Swoon by Beach Weather
> 
> Want to stay updated? Click [here](http://everyday-im-preaching.tumblr.com/) to stay in the know!


	12. All The Kings Horses

_I know how to be brought low, and I know how to abound._

_In any and every circumstance,_

_I have learned the secret of facing plenty and hunger,_

_abundance and need._

- _Philippians 4:12_

“Aren't naps supposed to make you feel _better_?” Dipper grumbled to himself as he shuffled sleepily down the hallway steps. He scowled when he reached the bottom, catching the last remnants of the sun through the kitchen window as it lowered beneath the horizon. Taking a right, he peeked his head into the living room and smiled to himself.

Bill was fast asleep—his breath and heartbeat had slowed, eyes still behind their lids. Dipper slipped into the room quietly; he curled his toes on the smooth hardwood, thinking about how much _cleaning_ he had to do to make the place suitable for a human occupant. Tilting his head to the side, he noticed the Book of Iscariot laying open on Bill's lap, its red ribbon tucked neatly between the pages.

“You're so cute,” Dipper muttered, dragging the colourful carpet back to its original place on the floor—Bill had shifted it in his constant shimmying earlier. Reaching the human, he carefully took the book and shut it softly. “But the real question is _why_? Why do I think that?” Dipper set the book aside.

Carefully, so as not to wake the human, he pressed a kiss to Bill's forehead. Life thrummed beneath his lips and he was reluctant to pull away. Frowning, Dipper gently cupped the human’s face and tilted it upwards, swiping his thumb across Bill's chin to wipe away the drool that had pooled there. The urge to kiss the human swelled inside of Dipper, knocking through his chest and climbing up his throat hungrily. He swallowed it down.

“You won't mind if I kiss you, right?” Dipper whispered, voice quiet. He admired the hard line of Bill's jaw, and the dark circles that had crept under his eyes these last few months, staining the golden skin. “Won't even wake you up.” He tilted his head down, claiming the human’s lips. Their warmth was addictive; he pressed a bit harder, eyes slipping closed as he cradled Bill's face. Dipper had forgotten what kissing a human felt like—and he wondered why he'd ever stopped.

 “Dipper?” Bill murmured groggily against Dipper's lips. The vampire took the slight opening of the human's mouth as an invitation; he spent a second licking at the slightly sweetened lips before dipping his tongue into Bill's mouth. Bill inhaled sharply, eye fluttering open wide. To Dipper, Bill's mouth tasted like a sugary fever dream. It was a delicious mixture of nauseating and intoxicating and had Dipper wanting more.

“Evening,” Dipper purred, drawing his fingers down Bill's jaw and lightly pinching it. “Find anything interesting in there?” He tilted his head to the book on the nightstand. The human’s face had darkened considerably with Dipper's attention.

“Uh, yeah. It's a really good read. I only meant to rest my eyes for a moment,” Bill breathed, fingers flexing and scratching at the fabric of the armchair. The human seemed afraid to have them do much else. Dipper paused, pulling his hands back to himself and letting them fall to his sides.

“Sorry if I'm making you uncomfortable,” Dipper muttered, locking his hands behind his back. How could he have been so stupid? Bill cleared his throat whilst shaking his head.

 “Oh, no, I… Oh man, that was great to wake up to,” the human told him, lips turning up into a coy smile. “I just haven't fully convinced myself that this entire fiasco isn't some kind of dream.” Dipper shook his head and laughed. “Look, my life's been pretty weird recently. Give me a break.”

“Am I not the only weird thing in your life?” Dipper questioned, lifting a hand and running it through Bill's hair. Bill shrugged and darted a hand out to tug at Dipper's shirt, trying to pull him back. The vampire came along easily enough, looking down at Bill with a grin.

“Honestly?” Bill shook his head, fiddling with the back of Dipper's tee. “No. But I'd like you to be. I… Dipper, there are some things in life that you don't ever expect to happen. And vampires are pretty high up there.”

“But it's not the highest thing on _your_  list, is it?” Dipper questioned, letting his fingers explore the soft skin of the human's face. “Whatever is in your past doesn't matter to me, Bill. I'm a vampire. There's nothing that you've done that could surprise or bother me.”

“That's not it,” Bill told him in a quiet sigh. “Just go back to kissing me, that was easier. Less questions involved.” He tilted his head up, lips partially parted and looking ready to be kissed senseless. Dipper groaned inwardly, knowing he should question the human further, but it was just so tempting to toss that idea to the wind. To crawl up onto Bill's lap and kiss him until his pretty pink lips were bruised and swollen.

“I can keep kissing you, and god do I want to. But I need you to answer one question for me,” Dipper bit out, regretting every word as he saw Bill's face fall. “Please.”

“I can't promise I'll answer it,” Bill replied, eye darting to the ground. Dipper nodded in understanding.

"Bill, do you know how much trouble you're in?” Dipper asked, letting his fingers brush over the back of Bill's head and ghost along the shell of his ear. “Any, at all?” Bill took a moment to think, eyebrows furrowing. He shook his head.

“None,” he answered, looking at Dipper. “And that's really fucking scary, you know? To not know so much about...” Bill trailed off, before snorting. “...whatever. Everything.”

“Knowing nothing about everything is a pretty shitty feeling,” Dipper agreed, throwing a leg over Bill's legs, pinning them between his own. Bill's pupil dilated, breath hitching in his chest. “For years I didn't know who I was, where I was going with my life—not until we decided to build this town.” Dipper scoot up until he could place a knee on either side of Bill. The human swallowed visibly, fingers twitching.

“We?” Bill croaked. Dipper carefully laid a hand on Bill's and brought it so that is pressed against the small of his back. The human let out a soft whimper and his heart rate spiked. Leaning forward, Dipper brushed their noses together.

“I'll explain later,” Dipper murmured, delivering a chaste kiss to Bill's lips. The human let out a tiny mewl of discontent when the mouth moved away, unhappy with its quick departure. “I thought you wanted me to keep kissing you?”

"Yeah,” Bill agreed, trying to crane his neck far enough to kiss Dipper again—the vampire sat up, bouncing slightly on his lap. Bill's fingers dug against his flesh, stilling him. “Get back down here.”

“Like you're in any position to give me orders,” Dipper teased; Bill pouted at him, lip thrusting out as he glared up at the immortal. Wrapping his arms around the human’s neck, he leaned back down and kissed him again; this time it was slow and exploring. Bill's tongue prodded hesitantly at Dipper's lips, nearly retracting as they opened for him.

Dipper's phone jingled at him from the nearby end table and he let out a snarl, readjusting himself so that he could press his mouth seamlessly to Bill's. The human let out a tiny whine, tongue pushing against Dipper's, trying to take control of the kiss again. After a moment, the vampire relented and let Bill dip his tongue inside and explore thoroughly, all while his phone spat unintelligible song lyrics at him.

“You should get your phone,” Bill panted when he pulled away, noticing the cross look on Dipper's face.

“I should,” Dipper grumbled; a warm nose pressed against his collarbone, lips nibbling at the skin there. A shudder shook the vampire's body and he pressed further against the wanting mouth, reaching out an arm to pick up his cellphone. “Hello?” Dipper groused, feeling teeth dig a bit harder into his skin—the human was trying to suck a hickey into Dipper's skin but was having a tough go at it.

“Dipper? Honey, somethin' wrong?” Gideon's voice was heavy with worry as he spoke. “You normally answer right away.”Bill let out a frustrated growl, biting harder. Dipper's toes curled as the human broke skin, fangs scraping together in a rough grit.

“No, I'm just a little busy,” Dipper replied, tightening his arm around Bill's shoulders. The hand on Dipper's back began to knead the skin beneath it. “What's up?” Bill's lips travelled up, biting at the skin as he went.

“I just wanted to tell ya' that that hunter's been sniffing around here again.” Gideon's voice was hushed and low. “Asked about you.”

“Wait, what?” Dipper's voice was sharp enough to give Bill pause. “How does she know about me? What does she know?” he demanded. Bill nosed the vampire's jaw and Dipper shifted away from him, getting another pout.

“Dunno. Just asked if I knew anyone by the name of Dipper Pines. Said no. She didn't believe me, and for half-a-second I thought she was gonna pull a gun on me.” There was a quiet note of fear in Gideon's voice that made Dipper uneasy. “That woman is _scary_ , Dipper. Don't go playin' around with her. I'd advise stayin' out of sight for awhile if you can.”

“Yeah, yeah. Thanks.” Dipper sighed, pressing his forehead against Bill's shoulder. “Any news on the _other_ thing I asked you about?”

“Nothing. Whoever this Cipher guy is, he has some friends in high places. Looks like there was some kind of government cover-up involving him about three or four years ago.” Gideon paused. “You involved with this guy?”

“Currently in a very pleasant way,” Dipper replied, taking a moment to kiss Bill's cheek. He quickly cataloged the information given to him about Bill, pushing it somewhere to think about later.

“Oh Lord have _mercy_ , Dipper, you could've told me you were busy in that way. Apologise to him for me, will ya?” The pathologist was flustered now, that was obvious enough. “Jesus _Christ_.” Gideon hung up before Dipper could tease him, and the vampire placed the phone back on the end table, rolling his eyes.

Bill waited for a moment before speaking.

“Uh, what was that about?” Bill questioned, unable to keep the worry from his voice. Dipper shrugged, snuggling up against the human’s chest and pressing a kiss to the underside of his jaw.

“A friend. He wants you to know that he's sorry that he interrupted us.” He nipped gently, fangs grazing sensitive skin. “Nothing for you to worry about.” He began to lap at the skin beneath his lips, getting a soft inhale from Bill, who proceeded to kiss the side of his head.

“I feel like, just because you said that, it is _definitely_ something for me to worry about,” Bill muttered, nosing Dipper's curls and inhaling deeply. “You smell good,” he murmured. The sexual tension between the two had faded during the conversation, and Dipper was currently content with sucking and biting at the pale skin beneath his fangs; not hard enough to draw blood, but enough to get excited at the prospect of it.

“Mm, well, just because I'm the undead doesn't mean I don't shower. I can smell gross just like everyone else, I assure you.” Dipper pulled back, cocking his head to the side. “For the record, you smell _amazing_.” Bill's cheeks looked to flush darker, if that was even possible.

“Uh, like, me, or my blood?” he questioned, unable to look at Dipper.

 “It's both kind of the same for me, actually. I can't tell the difference unless it's freshly spilled blood. Under your skin, it just kind of mixes with the rest of this.” He nodded at Bill.

 “Oh. Huh. So I just kind of smell good? Not tasty?”

“What kind of question is that?” the vampire asked, becoming irritated once more with the incessant questions, despite his earlier promise to answer any the human had. “I mean, do you want to eat me?” Bill frowned, eyebrows furrowing together in thought.

“I mean, a _little_ bit. But not in that way,” the human responded, looking up at the vampire. Dipper opened his mouth, and then shut it. His mind froze, time slipping past him as he simply stared at Bill, unable to speak. “Shit, I shouldn't have said anything.”

“You should definitely have said that,” Dipper disagreed, lips curling up into a cunning smile. “The answer to your unspoken question is yes, I'd love to drink from you. Just not right now.” He leaned forward, pressing his cheek against Bill's chest, listening to the human’s heartbeat thud beneath his ribs. Dipper's eyes closed, bringing his legs up so that he could curl into a more comfortable position in Bill's lap.

“Oh, okay. I just wanted to make sure.”

“Bill, you aren't a walking blood bank for me. If that was true, I'd have already drank from you. You need to relax,” Dipper told him, pressing a kiss to his collarbone.

“I haven't been in any sort of relationship for at _least_ three years. So my first foray back into the field being with a supernatural creature is a bit nerve-wracking,” Bill admitted, getting a laugh from the immortal. “Especially one as cute as you. I mean, have you seen yourself—wait, can you see yourself in mirrors?”

“In some of them. It really depends on how old the mirror is, and what it's made out of,” Dipper replied. “Silver tends not to mix well with immortals in general—so we don't show up in any photos that use silver emulsion, or in mirrors that is just glass painted with a silver back.”

“Werewolves too?” Bill questioned. “What about fae?”

“Werewolves too. Luckily for them. If I had to look at myself as one of those mutated wolves, I think I'd kill myself.” He paused, screwing his mouth into a thoughtful frown. “Fae, it really depends. I haven't met enough of them to really get a consensus when it comes to the use of mirrors.”

“You really don't like werewolves, do you?”

“Not a single bit,” Dipper affirmed, closing his eyes to focus better on Bill's breathing. It was almost a religious thing; the constant, steady rhythm. Like a hushed voice praying, fingers slipping over a set of rosary beads in the dark, early hours of the morning. He _loved_ it. “You're probably hungry.”

“Not hungry enough to move,” Bill chirped in disagreement, snuggling him close.

Dipper found that decision hard to disagree with.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My beta is EmberGlows! :D
> 
> Want to stay updated? Click [here](http://everyday-im-preaching.tumblr.com/) to stay in the know!


	13. Act 5, Scene 3, Page 8

_For now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face: now I know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am known._

_\- 1 Corinthians 13:12_

Dipper had begun to doze, focusing with an intense reverence on the soft sound of Bill's breathing. Human lives were such _amazing_ things—they were so fragile and easily broken, and yet no matter what happened, humanity was able to continue to blossom and shape the world around them. It supported Dipper's theory that not everything needed to be positive to be beautiful.

“Hey,” Bill whispered, breath soft against the shell of Dipper's ear. The vampire twined himself farther around the human, and received a laugh. “You asleep?”

“I was getting there,” Dipper groused, cracking open an eye to glare at the human. “Until you bugged me.”

“I'm sorry,” the human apologised, pressing a kiss to the top of Dipper's forehead. “But I have to go the bathroom.” Another kiss was placed amongst the vampire's curls, and he rolled his eyes. Dipper carefully swung his feet from the chair, placing them lightly on the floor; he shook the sleep from them before standing, swinging his arms to wake them. Bill stood with an equally unhappy groan, popping his back with a careful arch.

Before Dipper could get too far from the human, a warm arm slid around his waist and lips found his in a happy kiss. The vampire let out a confused grunt, tilting his head so Bill could get a better angle.

“You're cute,” Bill affirmed, straightening himself and releasing the vampire. Dipper cocked an eyebrow, lips pursing as he tried not to smile.

“You've said that.”

“Well, I said it again. Probably going to say it later, too,” the human told him, tugging on one of his curls. “I'll be back.”

“I'd hope so. The bathroom window isn't big enough for you to escape through,” Dipper told him, watching as Bill swayed sleepily through the doorway and took a left. He was unknowingly switching his hips, much to Dipper's delight; the fabric of his slacks tightened ever so slightly, giving Dipper a nice preview of what the human’s ass looked like underneath them. He clacked his fangs together and shook his head. Bill needed to eat something.

 

“I thought you said you didn't know how to cook?” Bill questioned as he came into the living room, patting his hands down on his slacks. Dipper was shaking a skillet on the stove, phone set beside him on the counter. Music was playing softly from its speakers, filling the room with something melancholy and a tad gloomy.

“I don't,” Dipper replied, leaning over to scroll through something on his screen. “But the internet does. Or at least, people on it do.” Another shake of the skillet. Bill let out a laugh, shaking his head. “I figured that it couldn't be _too_ hard.”

“When was the last time that you used the stove?” Bill questioned; Dipper let out a thoughtful hum, adjusting the temperature of the burner.

“To cook myself something to eat? Never. At least, not an electric one.” The pan sizzled and Dipper heard Bill take a seat at the kitchen table. “Mom didn't want me to touch the cast iron stove, said a man would just manage to break it.”

“Cast iron? How old _are_ you?” Bill asked in awe as Dipper began to plate his food; the smell was mildly offensive to Dipper's nose, due to the garlic, but the hungry look on Bill's face told him that he'd at least made it smell right.

“Hope this tastes okay,” Dipper grunted, laying it in front of the human. “As for my age, I'm about two hundred years old.” Bill's eye widened at the vampire, mouth going slack. “Not the oldest vampire by far, but I've been around long enough to know the game.” Dipper rolled his shoulders back, standing tall. Pride gnawed at him, nipping at the corners of his mind. He shoved it away instantly.

“Two hundred years old?” Bill murmured. “You were born in the 1800s?”

“1800, exactly,” Dipper told him before turning on his heel and walking back to the fridge. Bill had his dinner, and Dipper had his. The vampire opened the fridge door and slipped the fluted bottle from its place. The blood was chilly, but even cold, it was better than the packaged stuff he'd had the evening before.

That is so _cool_ ,” Bill murmured, mesmerised. “Do you have to drink blood every night?” he asked, picking up his fork. He stabbed blindly at his food, eyes focused on Dipper. The vampire shook his head, pouring himself a glass of the thick liquid.

“No. But it's safer this way, with you around. If I drink often enough, it keeps away the thirst.” He paused. “For the most part. Sometimes things happen. Like standing in the sun too long, or getting shot.” Bill cleared his throat, cheeks burning brightly as Dipper came back over.

“Sorry about that,” Bill murmured, flicking his eye up to look at Dipper, then back down in a semblance of shame. “I didn't mean to get you shot.” Again, Dipper rolled his eyes and laid a hand on the human’s shoulder. Bill cautiously looked up, eyebrows drawn together and lips pursed.

 “It's not a big deal,” Dipper told him honestly. “Believe me, if it'd have been a problem, I never would've done it.” He squeezed the human’s shoulder and received a weak grin. “I didn't mean to come off sounding like I had regrets about doing it, nor did I want it to seem like I was pointing fingers. I was trying to tease you.” He raised his hand, pinching Bill's chin.

“Thanks for clearing that up,” Bill muttered, pressing his face against Dipper's hand as it wandered to cup the human's cheek. “I'm just so used to...” Bill trailed off, letting out a huff and shaking his head. “...Well, I'm not used to this.” He pulled his head free and looked at his food. His face lit up in an instant, teeth shining with his smile. “It tastes alright, by the way. Nothing I'd write home about.”

“Asshole,” Dipper told him, folding his arms over his chest. “I slave away at the stove for you, and that's all you have to say?” The human shrugged, the corner of his mouth remaining curled with the remnants of his smile. He shifted so he could rest his back against the edge of the table, staring out the darkened window of the kitchen.

Outside, he could hear a number of sounds, all spilling over each other in an unconscious competition for dominance. Trash cans banged quietly against one another whilst cats screeched out unconventional songs of loneliness; humans chattered and drank from aluminium cans, trying to forget the day—but amongst these noises of the nightly orchestra, he heard one that wasn't familiar. Heels, walking along the pavement with quiet clacks that had him pushing himself off of the table.

“What's wrong?” Bill questioned; his fear saturated his words, dripping from it like a leaky sink. Dipper frowned, listening carefully. It seemed innocuous enough, but there were no bars in the area for an unlucky lady to stumble from—and the houses on either side of him were empty. “Hey, wait, you dropped something.” Dipper turned his head in time to see Bill reaching down for Dipper's dime.

“ _Bill, don't touch that._ ” It came out of Dipper's throat in a threatening snarl, getting the human to freeze in his tracks. “Just, slowly sit back up.” Bill nodded, carefully returning to his previous position. Dipper knelt down and picked up the coin, sighing. “I've never had this problem before.” Tilting his head up, he saw how utterly terrified the human was.

“What is that?” Bill asked, looking at the dime in Dipper's palm. The vampire looked at it, turning it in the light. Still worn, still glinting silver.

“It's a dime,” Dipper replied; he inspected the pocket of his pants, poking his finger here and there until he found the cunning little hole that had let the dime slip from it and to the floor. He curled his fingers around the coin, making a fist.

“Yes, it is, but I mean, it's obviously important to you.” Bill played with his food, shoving it around on his plate.

“It's important, but not really to me.” He laid it flat on the table, gently tracing the edge of it. Bill was leaning forward, looking at it with caution, keeping his hands firmly where they were. “This dime is one of the original twenty-four that were designed by Charles E. Barber; they're made of silver, primarily, and are worth roughly nearly two million dollars. Well, if it were in a decent condition, it would be.” He shook his head, taking the seat opposite Bill. 

“Where the hell did you get this?” Bill questioned, eye focused on the tiny coin.

“I was given it in...” He paused, drawing his bottom lip into his mouth to nibble at it. “...Oh, man, 1894? It was a gift, to acknowledge me as one of the three founders of this city.” Dipper laughed at himself. “Forty years too late, but it's better than never.”

“But aren't vampires allergic to silver?” Bill questioned, fingers now having abandoned his fork. “I mean, I know that contemporary fiction doesn't always tell the truth but...” Dipper nodded flipping over the dime.

“It is. Toxic, actually. There's enough silver in this dime to kill a vampire, if someone really wanted to.” He closed his eyes, remembering the first sting of the dime touching his palm. Now he felt nothing—it hadn't affected him in so _long._ “It reminds us of our promise to create a safe space for vampires in a world that doesn't want them.” Dipper pursed his lips, leaning back in his chair. “And whenever we're feeling uncertain or uneasy, we're supposed to take it in our hand and remind ourselves of why we're forced to make the hard decisions.”

“Because someone has to?” Bill questioned softly, getting a snort from the vampire.

“No, because everyone else is too stupid to,” Dipper told him, letting his chair fall back on the floor with a clatter. He paused—those heels. They were closer now, taking the steps up to his door. “Bill, I'm going to go answer the door.”

“Answer the door? There's no one at the—” A quiet knock interrupted Bill. “—Yeah, that's freaky. You're freaky. I know it's because your senses are heightened, but _man_.” The human stood, taking his plate with him to the sink.

“Stop whining,” Dipper chastised, rising from his chair and walking over to the door. Another quiet knock; there was a faint hint of gunpowder, but it was more of a remnant—the person on the other side of the door wasn't armed.

“ _Stop whining_ ,” Bill mocked, setting his plate down.

“Can you stop being, like, three?” Dipper told him dryly, laying his hand on the doorknob. He hadn't wanted to speak with the hunter tonight, but she seemed to be determined to ruin his evening. Bill muttered something under his breath, and Dipper rolled his eyes at the human—he was so _sassy_. It was adorable, even though Dipper had no intention of saying so. Even when faced with a deadly predator, Bill still had the nerve to talk back.

Dipper carefully swung the door open, lips pursed and ready to explain himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My beta is EmberGlows :3
> 
> Song for this chapter:  
> I've Got Gunz by Matthew Leonardo and Greg Gordon 
> 
> Want to stay updated? Click [here](http://everyday-im-preaching.tumblr.com/) to stay in the know!


	14. Beware The Ides Of March

_"Let the morning bring me word of your unfailing love,_

_for I have put my trust in you._

_Show me the way I should go,_

_for I entrust you with my life."_

_-Psalms 143:8_

Dipper approached the door and gagged; the smell of silver was heavy around the entrance to his home, permeating the door and burning his nose. He narrowed his eyes; he had a gut feeling that the woman on the other side of the door wasn't a hunter at all, but another one of the goons after Bill.

“Give me a moment,” Dipper called to the person on the other side of the door, and he was met with the impatient tapping of a heel against the cracked concrete of the steps leading to his tiny porch. If the woman on the other side of the door had a silver weapon, Dipper would need to move fast.

The immortal reached up and ghosted his fingers along the too-tall shelf to his left; touching the cool barrel of his Beretta, he pulled it down and checked the clip. Full. The silencer on it seemed to be functional as well. Gripping the gun tightly, he steadied himself. Bill peeked his head into the hallway, and Dipper gestured at him to leave.

“What's up?” Bill asked, letting his eye wander to the gun in Dipper's hand. Dipper cocked an eyebrow and shooed him again, making a face. “Fine,” Bill muttered, stalking back into the kitchen with an irritated huff. Dipper rolled his eyes at the human’s dramatics, laying his hand on the doorknob and nodding to himself.

Dipper expected a knife, or perhaps a stake—he _didn't_ expect an axe. It came down with bone-crushing strength, digging itself into his shoulder and wrenching a pained howl from him. There was a clatter from the kitchen, followed by a frantic scrambling. Dipper kicked the door the rest of the way open and brought the gun up to jam it into her gut, firing a single round.

The woman let out a choked gurgle as blood spilled over her bottom lip; and then her eyes narrowed in determination. She yanked the axe up, freeing it with a great heave, ready to swing it down with the same ill intent as before. Dipper pulled the trigger again—and again—until the attacker was stumbling back and down the steps, sprawling on to the ground. Blood was seeping through the front of her shirt, staining the dark cloth.

“Who are you?” Dipper asked, words coming out in a hiss as his shoulder burned and blistered, refusing to heal. Borrowed blood seeped from it and slipped down his chest. “What do you want?” Her mouth worked soundlessly, eyes half-glassy as death closed in on her. Shakily, she rose a hand and flipped him off, unable to speak.

With renewed hatred, Dipper stumbled forward, bringing up the gun and firing two rounds into her chest and one into her face, causing her to fall completely limp, hand falling beside her with a wet thud. Dipper let out another hiss, climbing back up the steps with all the grace of an old man with a broken hip. God he was glad that he didn't have neighbors. Dipper tossed the gun away, listening to it clatter against the hardwood of the hallway as he entered his home.

“Holy _shit._ ” Bill's face was a mixture of horror and fear when Dipper stumbled into the kitchen, blood now having soaked his shirt and freely dripping down his torso and onto the floor. Crimson dots were trailing on the hardwood behind him. “Fuck. Are you okay? Shit, you're actually _bleeding._ ” Bill's voice rose in pitch with every word, eyes taking in the wounded immortal.

“I'm aware,” Dipper told him dryly; he kept his hands clenched into fists at his sides, sure that if he attempted to touch the wound it'd hurt more. Bill was a _mess._ He was pacing back and forth, occasionally fisting his hair and tugging at it angrily whilst crying. His heart was pounding in his chest, elevated and wanting to desperately escape his chest like a frightened bird.

“Do you need some blood?” Bill asked, voice somewhere between undisclosed anger and insurmountable fear. “God, this is my fault, too. I got you hurt.” The human shook his head, tugging at his hair again. “I'm so sorry, Dipper, I didn't mean for you to get hurt for me. I mean, you've gotten shot, and now.. .now you've been hacked into by what? An axe?”

“Bill, it's not your fault,” Dipper told him, slumping into a kitchen chair. Bill hovered close by and the vampire wanted to pull him closer—comfort him, shut him up, _something._ It was hard to focus with Bill freaking out. Not to mention the mess on the doorstep—after he'd properly fed, he needed to call Manisa—the sale of silver in town was prohibited.

“It _is._ You've been hurt protecting _me,_ ” Bill whined, wrapping his arms around himself tightly. “I should just go.” Dipper let out a quiet snarl at the idea, hand shooting forward to grab Bill's forearm and drag him close. The human let out a confused yelp as he was forced to bend over, looming like a pine over Dipper.

“I just took a silver axe to the damn shoulder to keep you safe, and if you think for _one_ goddamn second I'm letting you leave...” He dug his nails into Bill's arm, nearly drawing blood, “You're crazy.” Bill tugged on his arm, trying to free it. “Do you understand me? You aren't stepping a foot out of this house.”

“I… Yeah, I get it,” Bill squeaked in fear. “Uh, thank you for protecting me, Dipper.” The vampire let out a sigh, and gently rubbed his thumb against Bill's skin in comfort. The human visibly relaxed, but didn't move closer.

“I'm sorry for snapping at you. I just don't want you to get hurt. You aren't inconveniencing me.” _Well, maybe a little bit,_ Dipper thought, releasing Bill so he could peel the bloody shirt from him. _But I won't let you know that._ The human hovered nearby, flicking his eye to Dipper and then the fridge.

“I… I'm going to get you a washcloth or something,” Bill murmured; the word 'wash' rolled out of his mouth with a distinctive 'er' sound. “To clean up the blood.” Dipper snorted, nodding at him. “Do you want me to heat you up some blood from the fridge or, you know...” He raised a hand, rubbing it against his neck.

“Microwaved blood will work,” Dipper told him, lips barely moving as his eyes slid shut. An ache began to surge up in his belly, hungry and wanting. His throat tightened at the idea of drinking another mug of half-warmed blood. His mind flickered, instead, to sinking his fangs into Bill's neck. The human would taste _divine._ Dipper’s mind even turned to the rapidly cooling body outside for a second... But there was no way he'd trust the blood from a woman who carried a vampire-specific weapon.

Dipper let out a low growl at himself, forcing his injured arm up and smacking his hand against his temple for good measure. Bill was _not_ food. He was a human being, and one that was in a lot of danger. In the background, Bill was filling a bowl with warm water and grabbing a washcloth from a nearby drawer.

“The way you say ‘washcloth’ is cute,” Dipper told the human when he came over; a heavy blush spilled across Bill's cheeks. The human dipped the cloth in the bowl and wrung it out before turning his attention to Dipper's chest—a good part of his shoulder was still open and weeping thin rivulets of blood as Bill began to wipe away the mess.

“I picked it up, living in the Midwest,” Bill admitted, gently scrubbing at Dipper's skin. The microwave hummed in the background. “At least, I want to think I did.” The cloth moved upwards, then fell away as it was re-wetted.

“You think you did?”

“Don't know where else I would have picked it up from,” Bill told him with a shrug. “It's the only part of the country that I've ever heard it used. I guess they might use it down south, but I've only spent a couple weeks there. And that was—” He stopped himself, lips pressing together. “—A while ago.” Dipper let out a sigh, shaking his head. “I would tell you everything if I could,” Bill insisted, lips turning down into a wobbly frown. “I would, Dipper.”

“It would be easier if you did,” Dipper told him, adjusting on the chair slightly. Bill paused, eye focused on the gored, reddened flesh of the vampire. Dipper reached a hand down, gently running his fingers through Bill's hair. The human had begun to shake, body nearly convulsing as he began to cry. “Bill?”

“I would tell you, I promise,” the human continued to whimper, hand shaking as it fell away. Dipper was sitting up in his chair, face becoming troubled. He reached down, ignoring the pain in his shoulder.

“What's keeping you back?” Dipper asked, slowly manoeuvring himself out of the chair so he could kneel with Bill. The human shook his head, raising messy hands to wipe at his eye and tug away the cloth eyepatch that always adorned his face. Watered-down blood dotted along his cheeks, mixing with the dark freckles there. He met Dipper's eyes for just a moment before letting his gaze fall.

Bill slowly drew his arms around himself, tugging his bottom lip into his mouth.

“I'm scared,” he whispered, closing his eyes. Dipper nodded, scooting forward. He couldn't believe that he was comforting a human. Especially not _this_ one. “And with this whole new world, and _you,_ and...” He shook his head, laughing. It hid a note of mania in it. “...You took an axe to the shoulder just now. An _axe._ For _me._ And you got _shot._ For _me.”_

“I think there's a point to this, but I'm just not getting it,” Dipper told him, raising an eyebrow. Bill shook his head again, leaning forward and letting his head smack against the vampire's shoulder. His legs lay spread out on either side of Dipper's carefully folded knees, chest heaving with silent laughter.

“I guess there really isn't,” Bill finally said, and Dipper could feel hot tears escaping his eyes. “For the last three years, my entire world has just been a complicated mess. Nobody wanted to help me. Everyone thought I was a liar. Everyone wanted to think that I just cheated the system.” He took a deep breath, slowly slipping his arms around the confused immortal. “And then _you_ show up. And you just… want to take care of me, like some prince out of a romance novel.” The grin was evident in Bill's voice. “Except with, you know, fangs.”

Dipper wanted to tell Bill to hurry up with whatever he was trying to say; the human was so _close_ to him. A single turn of Dipper's head and he could bury his fangs into the soft flesh of Bill's neck. It was doing terrible things for his self-control. Slowly, as if he might explode, Bill sat up straight, staring Dipper in the eye.

“I guess none of that matters, right?” Bill teased lamely. “Dipper, the reason I can't tell you is because _I don't remember.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey!
> 
> Song for this chapter:  
> The Sound Of Pulling Heaven Down by Blue October
> 
> My beta is EmberGlows :3
> 
> Want to stay updated? Click [here](http://everyday-im-preaching.tumblr.com/) to stay in the know!


	15. Lysol and Pinesol

_"I, even I, am he who blots out your transgressions, for my own sake, and remembers your sins no more._

_Review the past for me, let us argue the matter together;_

_State the case for your innocence."_

_-Isaiah 43: 25-26_

 

Dipper had one hand wrapped around a warmed, half-empty mug, whilst the other was clutched between Bill's; the human was playing with the short digits. Bill had promised to tell Dipper what had happened, and why he couldn't remember; but his lips stayed pressed tightly together.

“Bill. I know this is hard for you,” Dipper murmured quietly; at the beginning of the exchange, he'd wanted to pull his hand away from the human. However, when he caught the human's expression, something inside of him throbbed, aching for Bill. A well-blended mixture of fear and hopelessness had encroached on Bill's face, tugging at the subtle wrinkles beneath his eyes and dragging his lips down into a trembling frown.

“It...” Bill's mouth barely moved as he spoke. He shook his head. “...Everyone else doesn't believe me.”

“I don't care what other people believe.” Dipper caught one of Bill's hands in his own, squeezing it gently. “Tons of people don't believe that I exist. That hasn't stopped me from living my life.” Bill nodded, entwining his fingers with Dipper's.

“I have retrograde amnesia,” Bill finally managed; his eye was unfocused as it stared at the table. Dipper shifted in his chair, tilting his body closer to the humans. “Roughly three years ago, I was in a car accident; I can't remember anything about the incident, or who I was with—but I was told it was a pretty nasty wreck.” He lifted his free hand, rubbing it against the centre of his forehead. “I was in a coma for a good month—they thought that I was never going to wake up.”

“I'm glad that you did,” Dipper told him, gently rubbing his thumb in soothing circles at the base of Bill's palm. Bill nodded, lifting Dipper's hand so he could press a kiss to the knuckles. His head lifted so that he was looking the vampire in the eye.

“A lot of people weren't.” Bill's voice was quiet but firm, gaze unwavering. Dipper cocked his head to the side, but didn't say anything. “The driver died. His family was upset. And angry.” The human swallowed hard. “At me. They didn't believe me when I said I couldn't remember, and I was so _scared._ They just screamed at me as they were dragged away by the hospital staff—” A choked noise escaped Bill as his throat tightened. His eyes were growing wet as he retold the story.

Dipper was up and out of his chair in a moment, sharply pulling his hand from Bill's. His fingers gripped Bill's face, tilting it up. He brushed away oncoming tears, lips etched into a frown.

“They were so mad that I survived. I didn't know why. I still don't,” Bill simpered, leaning into the cradle and laying his hands over Dipper's.

“Because they're assholes,” the vampire simplified. Dipper dipped his head down, pressing his lips to the corner of Bill's eye. “You don't have to say anything else if you don't—”

“—But I do want to,” Bill answered instantly. “I spent the last three years fighting to get a job; when they tested me mentally competent to hold one, I was rejected government aid.” Dipper nodded, idly stroking Bill's cheek. “I went back to school, holed up in a shitty apartment for a year and a half. Never mentioned my memory loss—I didn't need too. I remembered everything related to academia. Forgot my name, my address, my _family._ But I didn't forget that the mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell.”

Dipper rolled his eyes; he hooked his leg around his chair and dragged it over. Bill's pulse thrummed beneath his fingers, and he didn't want to let him go for anything. He slid his hands down, gripping Bill's again.

“But an education isn't worth much if your past is as checkered as mine happens to be,” Bill continued as Dipper sat down. “I searched everywhere. I'm lucky that Woden doesn't have very high standards for teachers.” He chuckled mirthlessly. “I thought that, maybe, everything was going to be okay. But then _they_ came for me. They wanted me to give them something. _Tell_ them something.”

“But you didn't know. And they probably just thought you were being difficult,” Dipper murmured, head bobbing, still nodding as if in agreement with himself. Something in the vampire wanted to call bullshit—to point out that the scientific likelihood of his story being true was so _low_ —but then he saw Bill's face.

It was heavy with a sad, resigned smile. Bill's lips twitched as they attempted to hold themselves up. Like they were waiting for Dipper to claim disbelief, to call him a liar, just so they could break free from the facade that everything was okay. Underneath the broken, faux grin was the slightest bit of hope.

“Well, that doesn't change much then,” Dipper finally said, narrowing his eyes and looking at the kitchen window. He shifted his eyes back to Bill, to find the human staring at him, eyes glistening. “What? I told you, nothing you can tell me will change my mind.” The vampire stood, placing his hands on the table in front of him.

Bill stood as well, catching Dipper before he left for the kitchen; he pressed their lips together in a tight kiss, wrapping his arms around Dipper in a desperate plea for the immortal to stay. Dipper tilted his head, parting his lips slightly so that the human could lick his way in. It was an unsure thing, slick and curious.

“You kiss like a middle-schooler,” Dipper murmured against his lips.

“Give me a break, I can't remember the last person I kissed before you,” Bill whined, bumping their noses together. “Way to break the mood.”

“What mood? If it's the one where you slobber all over me, I'll pass,” Dipper teased, kissing the corner of Bill's mouth. “I wonder if the Cleaners have taken care of that body. God, I hope so.” He tilted his head as lips insistently pressed against Dipper's chin; Bill's arms were still tightly clenched around him. “Bill, you have to let me go.”

“No,” the human groused, rubbing his cheek against Dipper's. The vampire rolled his eyes and reached over to the table, grabbing his phone. Bill stayed obstinately clung to him as he speed-dialed the head Cleaner, shifting from foot to foot to balance the human’s weight against his own.

Dipper waited through a series of long, shaky rings before his call was cut off completely with a harsh rush of static. He pulled the device away from his ear and frowned at it, fiddling with the buttons. When nothing seemed off with his phone, he attempted to dial the number again. He was greeted with a busy signal.

Bill pulled back, noticing the puzzled look on Dipper's face.

“Something wrong?” the human asked, eyeing the phone.

“I'm getting a busy signal. Surely there aren't _that_ many calls at this hour.” He sighed and shook his head. “Guess I could check the front lawn; that'd be the simplest way to find out what happened to our guest.”

“Are the Cleaners not picking up?” Bill questioned, reluctantly releasing Dipper and letting his arms fall beside him with a melancholy thump. “That's not a good thing, is it?”

  
“You always ask if something is good or not. In reality, nothing is good and _your_ perspective is simply skewed to believe it is,” Dipper replied in a grunt, not bothering to straighten his clothes. He petted Bill's chest lightly at the confused look on his face. “Don't worry about it.”

Dipper's nonchalance failed to convince Bill, as well as himself. People didn't ignore his phone calls, and they _certainly_ didn't hang up on them. It was unsettling; as he walked away from the table, he caught Bill cleaning up his mug from the kitchen table. The human looked as perturbed as he did so.

“I said don't worry about it,” Dipper instructed.

“It's hard not to worry about this kind of stuff. They're trying to kill me, and by extension, _you._ That seems like more than enough of a reason to worry about it. _”_

“You have a hundred and twenty short years to live—and you've already spent nearly a fourth of those,” the vampire told him. “Why not just enjoy life for right now? Let it wash over you, or some weird, nonsensical, spiritual crap like that. Take advantage of the free wifi.” This got Bill to snort, pushing Dipper's bloodied chair in.

“How about we get all of this blood cleaned up, and then I'll consider it.” Bill's eyes melted into worry, brows furrowing once again. “You've lost a lot of blood.”

“I have,” Dipper agreed, walking into the adjoining hallway. Crouching down, he inspected the trail of his own blood leading from the front door. “God, what a mess.” Bill cleared his throat from the kitchen, and Dipper tilted back to look at the human.

“You're still hungry.” Dipper rolled his eyes at Bill's remark.

“I'm _always_ hungry. Perk of being a vampire, the feeling of being full or sated is rare and is very, _very_ brief.” Dipper scratched at the dried blood, nose wrinkled in disgust. It smelled like a combination of old soda and fermented syrup, combining to make a scent so gag-worthy that he wanted to recoil. Vampire blood smelled _horrible._

“Is there anything to combat that?” Bill questioned. Dipper heard the vague sound of cabinets opening and shutting as Bill scoured them, most likely for cleaning supplies. “Vampires have been around so long, they must have found _something_ that could help.” Dipper let out a quiet hum, standing and cocking his head to the side. A soft clicking, not heels, not the hammer of a gun.

“You'd think that they would. But most vampires have a horrible sense of self-preservation, and nearly all of them have no desire to conform to laws or government. What we've got going here, in this town, is a modern miracle.” He walked back into the kitchen, smiling and shaking his head when he noticed the small arsenal of cleaning supplies that Bill had dug up and dumped on the kitchen counter. “However.” Bill's head tilted up, eyeing him curiously. “There is a rumour.”

“A rumour? Man, I love those,” the human told him. “Do you have a mop somewhere?”

“There's a closet behind the staircase; it's a bit dark over there and the light bulb burnt out years ago.” It was a lie, but a convincing one. “I”ll go get it for you.” Dipper went to leave but Bill cleared his throat. Dipper turned back to him, taking in the expectant look on Bill's face. “Yes?”

“The rumour?” Bill prodded, eyebrows darting up on his face in excitement. Dipper rolled his eyes, snorting. He crossed his arms over his chest.

“In the Book of Iscariot, there's a passage that describes a way to quench our eternal thirst. But it's rather hastily scrawled and even the Cleaners doubt that it's part of the genuine article.” Dipper let the floor draw his eyes. “It says that vampires are entirely soulless in nature, and that's why we require blood.” Bill looked confused. “Your soul, supposedly, is imbued in your blood. That's why it hurts when you bleed, and why you die when you lose all of it.”

“That is a little far-fetched.” Dipper shrugged at his disbelief.

“You wanted to hear this, Bill. So be quiet and listen.” The human went mum at the vampire's words, keeping his eye glued to Dipper's form. “Supposedly, every time a vampire is created, their soul moves on to become a human once more. If a vampire finds the human with his or her soul, and they feed from them, it can sate them for hundreds of years at a time.”

“Wouldn't that be a lot of work? I mean, the human in question wouldn't stay alive nearly as long as the vampire would. You'd just have to find them all over again.” Bill's observation was one of curiosity, sounding more like a question to himself than to Dipper.

 “I don't know. Probably.” He shrugged. “I've been alive for too long to pretend that I believe in that nonsense.” Dipper wanted to sigh, but instead he just shook his head, mouth screwing up in distaste. “I'll go get that mop for you. Don't answer the door, open any windows, or you know. Huff anything.”

“Who needs to huff cleaning chemicals? My life's crazy enough as it is without hallucinating,” Bill mumbled; he cleared his throat again. “Thank you. Again. For everything you're doing for me.” Dipper let out a soft sigh and crossed the space between them, lifting a hand to place it against Bill's cheek.

“You don't need to thank me. Just be the normal, annoying human that you insist on being. That's enough of a thank you for me.” The beaming smile that Dipper received in return was _beautiful._ It lit up Bill's face in a way no spotlight or star ever could. The vampire let his hand travel up, cupping the back of Bill's head and dragging him down to kiss him properly.

It was just as sickly sweet as every kiss before, laden down with sugar and cream from his coffee. Dipper was starting to become addicted to it, and with a mental shrug, he figured that that was perfectly fine. He hadn't intended for this to be a one-off anyway, still standing by what he'd thought from the beginning... Bill was _his._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song for this chapter:  
> The Moon Rises by Ponyphonic
> 
> My beta is EmberGlows :3
> 
> Want to stay updated? Click [here](http://everyday-im-preaching.tumblr.com/) to stay in the know!


	16. Pull The Wool Over My Eyes And Say Goodnight

" _Then Jesus was led by the Spirit into the desert to be tempted by the devil."_

_-Matthew 4:1_

 

“He's going to get curious,” Dipper muttered to himself as he slipped behind the staircase, hand finding the door handle of the small room with ease. “We'll just have to see _how_ curious.” Nails scratched at the doorway, eyeing the chipping wood with distaste. Manisa might have been right—his house was a _little_ shabby.

Swinging the door open, Dipper inhaled the friendly mixture of scents beyond it. His feet smoothed over the polished hardwood, tongue darting out to lick at his lips; the faint scent of death clung to everything in the room like a heavy shroud. It weighed heavily in Dipper's mouth, ghosting his fangs and filling his mouth to the brim with a sugary sweet, _delicious_ taste. He hummed quietly to himself, pausing to tug open a drawer next to him. It was overflowing with thin, golden necklaces, bejewelled and heavy in their wooden coffin.

Dipper carefully picked through them, admiring the way they caught the soft moonlight that was sifting through the sheer curtains on the other side of the moon. Tilting his head up, he grinned at the small hoard of items that he'd collected throughout the years, from a number of victims. He affectionately neatened the drawer and pushed it back in.

Continuing on his stroll, Dipper stepped around a bucket of colourful umbrellas. His footsteps carried him to the other end, bypassing the mop and standing in front of a small shrine of items; they still smelled faintly of cinnamon.

“You know, if you keep coming back, I'm going to catch you,” Dipper whispered to the items, taking a knee so he could address them better. Dipper supposed he'd look crazy now, kneeling amongst stolen items and whispering to inanimate objects. “This was a big risk, you took. Coming so close.” He sat back, pulling his legs up and circling them in his arms.

Three items were lain atop a brown shawl, carefully placed so that they didn't touch. Dipper reached out, picking up the worn Bible and bringing it up to mouth to press a kiss against the silver that had been used to fill in the imprinted title. It tingled against his lips, but he refused to recoil. The other two objects nestled in the cloth were a set of wooden rosary beads and a broken perfume bottle, the edges still sharp and pointed.

“I won't let you go this time. I've got you cornered,” he murmured, lips brushing the rough leather. With careful fingers, he laid the book back down, moving it back into place with a gentle, dedicated nudge.

 

“That took forever,” Bill whined when Dipper returned; the entire kitchen shined, and all of the blood had been cleaned from the kitchen chair. “Did you take a nap while you were back there?” Dipper shook his head, offering the mop to the human. Bill wrapped his fingers around it, squeaking when Dipper surged up to kiss the corner of his mouth. “A kiss _and_ a mop? You spoil me.”

“Thank you for cleaning. I hate cleaning.” He reached a hand up, gently ghosting his fingers down Bill's jaw. “Hungry? I'm sure some place is open.”

“I just ate,” Bill told him, arching an eyebrow. Dipper paused, furrowing his eyebrows.

“Oh. I… sorry.” He shook his head, pressing his palm against his forehead. His lips still burned from the silver, and he wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. “When you have all the time in the world, it kind of escapes you.”

“Are you okay?” Bill asked quietly. Out of the corner of his eye, Dipper could see the human wringing the neck of the broom, palms sweaty. Dipper snorted, leaning against the kitchen counter; he practiced putting his weight on his previously injured arm. It stung, and the freshly stitched together flesh pulled taut in a spark of heated, agonising pain—but he could use it.

“Before I was immortal, my memory was a lot worse” Dipper told him, stretching his arms our in front of him and watching his muscles shift in compliance. “Contrary to popular belief, vampires don't all have an incredible ability to remember everything. Whatever traits you had as a human—bad memory, a limp. A bad eye.” He pointed to Bill's covered eye. “They all transfer over with you.”

“I thought that it might be related to carrying around that silver dime of yours. Maybe affecting you negatively or something.” Bill shrugged, watching Dipper as he rounded the counter once more, joining Bill on the other side.

“The dime is definitely hurting me,” the vampire responded. “But it's supposed to remind us of what could happen to the rest of the town if we're to fail in our duties. Or something like that. It's a good pain, really. At least Manisa says it's supposed to be. I fail to see the appeal, but I'm going to roll with it.”

“Who's Manisa?” Bill asked instantly, jealously flashing through his eyes. Dipper rolled his eyes at the knee-jerk reaction.

“The town that you are currently residing in is ruled by an oligarchy; there are three rulers, and all are powerful, old vampires.” He crossed his arms over his chest, his face twisting into a thoughtful expression. “Manisa is the oldest of three, and takes care of both the political and financial aspects of supporting a small colony of vampires. She's the one who approached me with the idea of moving here.” Bill had paused in his task to look at Dipper, eyes wide. “I was young, but she trusted me. I'm not sure why.”

“It's the cheeks, I think. I'd trust them,” Bill interrupted, reaching a hand out to squeeze one. Dipper batted his hand away, scowling. “Who's the third? What's your place?” The vampire let out a sigh, trying to force down the bitter taste of bile.

“Resolved.”

“Resolved? As in...” Bill drew a finger across his throat, and Dipper shot him an unimpressed look. The human put the hand up in defense. “Okay, so no. Not dead.”

“We're _all_ dead. Remember? No pulse.” Dipper tapped his wrist, grabbing the mop from Bill and carrying it over to the sink.

Blood threatened to drip from the used mop head, and he shoved it into the sink with an unceremonious, wet, plopping sound. Dipper had never been too fond of the second oldest vampire in town, but they weren't enemies by any means. He liked to think they got along fine enough, for their differing opinions. With a sigh, Dipper turned on the sink. Couldn't like everyone he supposed.

“Resolved is his name. He came over with the Mayflower,” Dipper finally said, watching watery blood— _his_ blood—run down the drain and his stomach whined at him. He kicked his foot against the cabinet, gritting his teeth.

“I'm not going to make fun of your little clique or anything, I'm sure they mean a lot to you,” Bill told him, looking perplexed. “But who names their kid _Resolved_?”

“Grab a ouija board, and we might be able to ask them. But I don't think four-hundred year old ghosts are really up for answering questions about their undead son.”

“Fair enough, I guess,” the human muttered, looking down to fiddle with his hands. Dipper took it as a sign to move on.

“He's kind of like… our general. He lays down the law in the most physical of ways, and tends to deal with any sort of infighting, rogue vampires and...” He paused. “...There are any number of threats that are waiting to tear us apart. We can't let that happen. Ergo, Resolved. As for myself, I'm considered PR.” Bill couldn't help but snort. “Oh, shove it. Someone has to be this place's poster child.”

“You were the _worst_ possible choice.”

“God, I _know._ I don't know what Manisa was thinking leaving me to deal with the general public.” Dipper brought up a hand, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Apparently I appear nonthreatening. Or something. Maternal?”

“Paternal?” Bill suggested. A cross look covered Dipper's features, deepening his scowl.

“Oh no, I'm pretty sure Manisa said _maternal,”_ the vampire replied, tone sarcastic. “They see something weak in me, something they can trust. I have no fucking clue, but it's _demeaning._ ”

“I can see that you're bothered by this, but I honestly have no idea how to help,” Bill told him, blinking stupidly. Dipper let out a heavy, exaggerated sigh. “Have you talked to Manisa about it, I mean—”

“—The people need someone,” Dipper interrupted, cutting him off before he could continue. “They need someone who's going to take in consideration how they feel about an issue instead of looking at it from a cold, impartial standpoint like the others would.” Brown eyes flicked up, carefully gauging Bill's reaction. “We're people, Bill. But most of the time it doesn't feel like it. Media romanticises us. Vampire hunters demonise us.” Dipper let his arms drop to his sides, his eyes ghosting back down to the floor. “We don't deserve to feel like monsters. We aren't.”

Bill's hand gently ran through his hand, tugging his head back. Dipper refused to meet his eyes, even when lips pressed against his eyebrow.

“I mean, I might be biased, but I don't think you're a monster,” Bill offered. Dipper lifted a hand and placed it over Bill's. He cracked a grin at him.

“Your opinion doesn't count. You're obligated to like me,” Dipper teased, intertwining their fingers and drawing the warm hand away from his head. He pressed a kiss to the human's hand, feeling his heart stutter in his chest. “And you say I'm the cute one.”

“What?”

“You say I'm the cute one, but your heart does tiny little flips,” the vampire explained, tapping a finger against Bill's chest, directly above his heart. “Like a little dance in there.” Bill blushed vibrantly, clearing his throat. Dipper leaned up, pressing a kiss to the underside of Bill's jaw.

“Hey, but you actually look cute. I'm a skittish history teacher with amnesia. Without the amnesia, I'd even go as far to say I'm your stereotypical damsel in distress.” Bill's face hovered close to Dipper's, lips grazing his cheek. “My brave knight.”

“Don't try to make this sweet. I'm not sweet. I'm protective,” Dipper snapped, nipping at Bill's face. The human kissed his jaw. “You're sick if you think murdering people is romantic.”

“Then call me sick,” Bill breathed, nuzzling his ear. Dipper shuddered, slipping his hands up into Bill's hair, tugging at the strands and letting out a contented murmur.

 

Dipper was up an hour after he'd fallen asleep—because of a phone call. His phone was screaming at him, loud and unafraid of its powerful overlord. Bill let out an irritated snort, rolling over on the bed and nuzzling the sheets.

“Gross,” Dipper stated, narrowing his eyes at the human who was occupying his bed.

After Bill had fallen asleep, Dipper had considered crawling on to the bed with him. Slipping between his arms and pressing his ear against Bill's chest to listen to his heartbeat. It was a soothing sound, even and strong despite Bill's accident. It gave Dipper hope; even through tragedy, the world continued to spin, and little, fragile creatures like Bill still existed.

Attempting to remain polite and not give the wrong impression, Dipper had taken to a chair opposite the bed—he'd turned and twisted in it, trying to get comfortable enough to sleep, shoulder protesting the entire time. And now that he'd been awaken from his fitful sleep, he was _pissed._

“I'm never going to get a decent amount of sleep,” Dipper whined, grabbing his phone; the number declared that it was private, and the vampire hissed. “You've got to be fucking kidding me. Does it look like I have time for unsolicited callers?” After a moment of deliberation, he angrily answered it. “Hello?”

“Oh, hey! I didn't think you were going to pick up.” The voice on the other side of the phone was feminine; it shocked Dipper with how soft it was, like the first rain of the summer. “Uh, yeah. This is Jolene. Jolene Stride. We haven't met. I mean, of course we haven't met, because if we had met, you know, I wouldn't be calling you—you know what, it doesn't matter.”

“I think you have the wrong number,” Dipper snapped through grit teeth. Another shuffling of papers, followed by a hushed curse.

“No, I… I don't. You're Dipper Pines. Look, I know this is short notice, but I need to make sure that you're aware of the problem in the city. All the ferals?” Dipper straightened at the word, fingers clenching tightly around the phone, nearly enough to make it crack. “Yeah, yeah,” she muttered on the other side of the phone. “Can we meet? This is a bit too sensitive a conversation to have over the phone. I think _he's_ listening.”

“Who? Who's listening?” Dipper demanded. “What do you know about the ferals?” Jolene was quiet for a moment.

“Meet me at St. Mary's, late afternoon. Six? Six is good for me,” she told him; the ambient noise that had been previously hovering around her silenced. Dipper paused, thinking about her offer. After a moment, he sighed and shook his head. “I know you're thinking about hanging up.” Her voice was so nervous, it began to shake. “I would hang up, but this isn't something we can just _ignore.”_

“I don't trust you.”

“And I don't trust vampires. I'm glad we've gotten that out of the way,” Jolene replied instantly. “But this is bigger than trust issues. This is bigger than issues. This is _the_ issue.” A frustrated groan escaped her. “Please.”

Dipper weighed the options. This... _Jolene Stride_ knew something, and was willing to share it with him. If it wasn't a trap, that was. It was risky, but Manisa had asked him to meet with the hunter that was running around starting trouble. He let out another sigh, shifting his weight from foot to foot. It wasn't an easy decision, and could _very_ easily get him killed.

“Fine,” Dipper agreed, snapping the waistband of his pants against his hip. “Come armed and I won't hesitate to restrain you.” He ended the call without letting her speak again, tossing his phone on the end table. “Fuck this. Fuck me,” Dipper swore, hands clenching into fists. “Should have died in that fire in '76.” The vampire spared at look at Bill, then sighed. “Alright, time to move, you bed-hogging bastard. I'm not sleeping in the damn chair.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song for this chapter:  
> Run For Your Life by Mako
> 
> My beta is EmberGlows :3
> 
> Want to stay updated? Click [here](http://everyday-im-preaching.tumblr.com/) to stay in the know!
> 
> Also! I really appreciate feedback; it helps me grow as an author! Thank you!


	17. Fragment II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone!  
> I just wanted to leave a note here to remind you that I would really love to know if you're enjoying this story! I do a lot of research and spend a lot of time writing on my fics, so it'd mean the world if you'd comment below!

_A friend loves at all times,_

_And a brother is born for adversity._

_-Proverbs 17:17_

 

Rain awoke Dipper; it was pattering and playing across the glass of his window in a hushed song that had him grunting sleepily. Despite his typical aversion to storms, he found himself oddly comfortable. Bill's arms were entwined around him, keeping him close and sharing his body heat with the immortal.

“Gross,” Dipper murmured, pressing a kiss to Bill's collarbone through his shirt. “But in a good way.” He slipped an arm around the human's waist, looking up to watch the milky light from the window smooth over Bill's features, painting his cheeks grey. Shifting a leg between Bill's thighs, Dipper's eyebrows shot up on his forehead.

The vampire pressed his thigh forward, pulling a soft, sleepy groan from Bill. A wicked grin split Dipper's face. Slowly, so not to wake the human, Dipper slipped a hand between them—he skated his fingers across Bill's clothed abdomen. Traversing lower, the fingers toyed with the thin strings of his sleeping pants, idly tugging at them.

“I wonder what you might do,” Dipper breathed, running his tongue along his teeth, half-beckoning his fangs to unsheathe. He gently cupped Bill, getting a slight shudder. “Good lord, look at that _face,_ ” the vampire whispered, admiring the way Bill's mouth fell open. He let out a quiet whine as a hand worked against him, rubbing him gently.

Bill's voice was a whisper, but Dipper _swore_ that he heard his name pass the human’s lips. Dipper paused in his ministrations to slip his fingers up, snapping once more at the waistband of Bill's pants. He dipped his finger beneath the elastic, letting out a pleased hum at the scruff of hair above Bill's erection. He petted it for a moment, admiring the scratchy path.

Getting a little curious, Dipper pulled the material away. He made a noise of delight; the carpet matched the drapes. Not to mention the flushed cock that was giving him a nice, solid hello as it pressed against the cloth of Bill's pants.

“Don't worry, I'm not that mean,” Dipper murmured, gripping it gently and smoothing a thumb over the head. Bill's breath hitched above him and he curled tighter around Dipper, folding in on himself. The vampire grunted in distaste, but pressed his forehead against Bill's chest, watching a few drops of pre-cum weep from the tip of the cock in his hand.

Dipper slid his hand lower, cupping Bill's dick at the base and drawing his hand up in a solid, smooth motion that had the human shuddering. A whimper made its way past Bill's lips as Dipper repeated the motion. Watching Bill's face, Dipper snickered; of course the human was greedy enough to just accept the handjob without waking up.

Tilting his head up, he pressed a kiss to the hollow of Bill's throat, listening to the sound of blood rushing through the human's veins to fuel his pounding heart. _Cute,_ Dipper thought, smoothing his free hand over Bill's clothed stomach, tugging at the grey cotton to pull it away from the tanned skin of his stomach. Dipper let his fingers wander over the soft skin, admiring the slight curvature of Bill's stomach and gently cradling it.

“Dipper,” Bill whined sleepily, burying his face in Dipper's curls once again. His hips jerked forward with the vampire's hand.

“Aw, dreaming about me?” Dipper teased, hooking his thumb in Bill's belly button. The vampire lazily pressed kisses across Bill's chest, humming to himself. “You should tell me when you wake up. I'd love to hear it.”

Dipper continued to slowly jack the human off, whispering soft, hungry nothings to the sleeping face above him. He watched in glee as it contorted in pleasure time and time again. But _still_ the human didn't wake up, even as his chest heaved and a multitude of gasps and groans mixed and spilled from his lips.

Drawing his thumb across the messy tip, Dipper wrapped his free hand around Bill's back, rubbing at the quickly tensing muscle there. It was cute, the way Bill swallowed deep breaths of air and shook, muttering and whining. Dipper _loved_ it. He could listen to Bill for hours.

 

Dipper cleaned up quickly after he'd brought Bill to completion, set on fetching donuts and coffee for his messy prince charming—it might have been a dick move to leave Bill to deal with the cooling cum in his pants, but it was a fun one. He puttered about the house for a good hour or so, putting up dishes and peering out the raindrop-spattered window at the grey world beyond it.

A thousand thoughts raced through Dipper’s mind, the first being a hesitant thought wondering if he should have touched Bill at all. That idea was quickly pushed away, however, to imagine how Bill would feel when he woke up—would he suspect the immortal? Or would he assume that he'd done it himself, in his sleep? Dipper couldn't imagine the shame that Bill was going to feel when he woke up.

“He's going to be so embarrassed,” Dipper muttered to himself, pulling on a shoe. “I wonder if he'll turn red when he sees me next.” The rain was heavy outside, and he'd almost convinced himself to leave his umbrella when he heard Bill's voice call from upstairs.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Bill chanted as he raced down the steps, and Dipper heard him nearly trip on the third one from the bottom. “I wanna go wherever you're going,” he panted, turning into the entryway. His hair was still damp, breath coming in heavy drags of air.

“Calm down,” Dipper told him with a knowing grin; he'd been so distracted, so _proud_ of what he'd done, that he hadn't heard the water running. Standing up, the vampire crossed over to Bill. “I won't leave without you. Now that you're awake, anyway.”

“Good, good. I mean, if you don't think it'd look too weird. Us. Together.” He nodded towards the door. Dipper shrugged at his insinuation. “Some people might—well, they might...” Bill cleared his throat.

“...I am _way_ too old to worry about what other people think,” Dipper told him, hooking a thumb in one of Bill's belt loops, pulling the taller man close. Bill's cheeks were flushed from his earlier exertion, blue eye bright and glimmering. “And you should be flattered that I've taken an interest in you. Enough so that it shouldn't bother you, either.”

“I am _very_ flattered,” Bill argued instantly. “I just don't want to get either of us in trouble. Mostly me—but I mean, you, too.” Dipper laughed loudly, shaking his head. “You can't die. You can just hide around for a couple hundred years until everyone forgets who you are. Like you said. I've almost used up a fourth of the time _I_ have. And I don't have a lot of good karma.”

“You're in good hands,” Dipper promised, lifting a hand to smooth a crease from Bill's hastily buttoned shirt. Bill’s breath hitched at the touch, body responding with the soft scent of arousal. If his cheeks could have burned brighter, Dipper swore they would have. No doubt that Bill thought it was a dream. Dipper had to admit to himself that it would have been a good one. “'The past can't hurt you anymore, not unless you let it.'” Dipper grinned at the edges of Bill's lips curling up into a shy smile. “Alan Moore, I think—Bill, the past doesn't define who you are _now._ ” Dipper pursed his lips, eyebrows furrowing. “Build a future. Don't spend too much time thinking about the past.” With a final pat against his shoulder, Dipper let him go.

“Dipper, wait, uh...” Bill reached a hand out, gripping his arm. “...Do you ever think about your past?” The vampire looked at the hand holding him, and then at Bill.

“I do a lot of thinking, about a lot of things. But right now, it's getting you breakfast.” He carefully extracted Bill's hand from his person. “Stop prying.” Bill's cheeks puffed out, an indignant frown settling on his face. Dipper shook his head, heading for the door.

 

The cafe that Dipper drove them to was warm; not in the way the heat was curling out of the vents and swirling around the feet of wooden tables—no, in the way that their waitress smiled at them fondly, even sparing a wink for Dipper. Jazz played softly over the speakers, blending with the sound of rain and the soft hiss of coffee machines.

“This place is expensive,” Bill muttered, looking over the menu in his hands. Dipper clicked his tongue at the human and picked up his own menu. He always got the same thing, and left without touching his coffee or food—the owners didn't mind, at least, since he was a paying customer.

After a few minutes of silence from Bill, Dipper set his menu down and reached across the table. He tapped one of Bill's hands, urging it to let go of the menu and grip his instead. The human complied easily, twisting his fingers into Dipper's.

“This is a _date,_ ” Dipper said quietly. “In a weird, non-planned way. And _I'm_ paying. So get whatever you want.” He rubbed his thumb along Bill's, smiling at him. Bill nodded mutely, flicking through the menu again. “Something's bothering you.” Another nod. Dipper briefly wondered if it was what Bill had woken up to this morning. He stifled a smirk and kept his face grave. “What's up?”

“Last night, you were saying something in your sleep. About someone named Mabel.” He scratched at the plastic sleeve of the menu, fiddling with the thread and trying to tug it free. Dipper froze at the name. “You seemed pretty distraught about her,” Bill continued; if it had been any other name across Bill's lips, Dipper would have thought his concern cute.

“Mabel… Bill, Mabel is a complicated mess.” He pulled his hand from Bill's and pressed it to his face. Rubbing at his eye, he considered lying to Bill about her. Looking at the melancholy expression that encompassed Bill's face, Dipper sighed. It wouldn't hurt to tell him. “Mabel is my sister, and… the person who changed me.”

“She's a vampire too?” Bill asked, eyebrows shooting up on his face. Dipper nodded grimly, lips pressed into a firm line. “That's a certain kind of luck.” The vampire slammed his fangs together, not able to muffle the angry hiss that snaked through his teeth and out his lips.

“It was _selfishness,_ not luck,” Dipper told him, catching Bill's eye with his. “My sister decided that she wanted something, and she took it without asking. As she always did.” He folded his arms over his chest, rage building in his chest. Bill looked like he didn't know what to say, his single eye searching Dipper's face.

“I'm sorry,” he finally settled on, voice soft. “I guess it isn't easy living forever. And not as glamorous either, I bet. But I'm glad you've lived this long, at least. Otherwise I'd be dead.”

“I”m not mad about my situation. I'm mad about how I've gotten into it. If she'd have asked, if she'd have _explained_ —” He clenched his free hand, running a fist up and down his upper leg. “—I may have agreed.” His voice softened, and he looked away from Bill. “But she didn't. Permission wasn't something that Mabel ever thought she needed when it came to me. Even after I was changed.”

“She just… changed you?” Bill asked, eyebrows furrowing. “Without asking or anything?” Dipper nodded. “Well, that was a shitty thing to do. Was she an older sibling?”

“No, she's my twin,” Dipper told him, smiling up at the waitress as she came. The couple briefly placed their orders before she was bouncing off again. “I know that it might seem like this was some great gift or something.”

Bill's hand squeezed his, and Dipper looked back at him. Concern had replaced every other emotion of Bill's face, leaving it near bare. The vampire was mesmerised by it. The simplicity of the expression was so pure and innocent, like a child was staring at him.

“Too bad that you didn't get a warranty, or like a receipt or something,” Bill finally said, getting Dipper to laugh, shoulders shaking with the force of it. “I wish I knew what to say or do to help you. But this anger towards her sounds like a pretty heavy burden to carry around.”

“It has been. I should have gotten over this a long time ago, but… some things, they just bury themselves in your heart. And once they're there long enough, it's hard to get them out.” Dipper sighed, running a free hand through his hair. “I know it must seem like it, but I don't hate her. I don't think that I ever could. But I don't think I can ever forgive her, either.”

“I don't think you should. At least not without talking to her about it first. Things like binding your brother to the body of a teenager for the rest of his life is kind of a big thing to just smooth over with an apology. Or even time. But I don't think you should let it eat at you.” Dipper nodded, falling silent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well hello!
> 
> Song(s) for this chapter:  
> Heavy (feat. Kiiara) by Linkin Park, Kiiara  
> Human by Rag'n'Bones Man  
> You Want It Darker by Leonard Cohen
> 
> My beta is EmberGlows :3
> 
> Want to stay updated? Click [here](http://everyday-im-preaching.tumblr.com/) to stay in the know!


	18. Jolene

 

_Be wise in the way you act toward outsiders; make the most of every opportunity._

_Let your conversation be always full of grace, seasoned with salt, so that you may know how to answer everyone._

_-Colossians 4:5-6_

Dipper was at St. Mary's twenty minutes before the agreed time—it was mostly nerves, on his part. Manisa or Resolved typically took care of the hunters that visited their city, since they were older and far more experienced. Being asked to deal with a hunter was a big thing; a huge placement of trust in Dipper's hands, that he wasn't sure he could take care of. But he had to try, at the very least.

“Early. It's good to be early.” The woman's voice was just as soft in person as it had been over the phone, if not more so. Dipper turned slowly to face her, looking over wooden pews and freshly polished stone. “I mean, sometimes. Sometimes it's better to be late.” A wry smile was fixed on her face, and her hands were dug deep into the pockets of an old hoodie. Dipper's nose twitched, eyebrows furrowing at the scent. “It's incense. A friend of mine insisted, to keep away bad spirits or something.”

Looking at her closer, he could see the faint lines of age settling in, with worry lines embedding themselves into her forehead and frown lines kissing her skin between her eyebrows. Even with the wrinkles, she didn't look like she could have been over twenty-five.

“Bad spirits? In a church?” Dipper questioned; she wasn't threatening in the least, with her vibrant red hair pulled into a messy bun and dark, heavy bags hanging beneath her eyes. Jolene shrugged, shuffling forward. “You look like you just rolled out of bed.” Another shrug; her head tilted to the side, as if she were listening for something.

“It's not like I was dressing up for Sunday Mass,” she finally said. “What was it like to be turned at such a young age?” Dipper was taken aback at the suddenness of the question. His lips pressed into a firm, unamused line.

“That's not why we're here,” he told her, voice clipped and short. “You said you had sensitive information for me—” Dipper noted the disappointed pout that played across her features, before it melted away into something coy and embarrassed. “—What?”

“The information could also be considered time sensitive. Do you have a place that we could talk without the chance of someone interrupting us?” She shifted from one foot to the other. “The ears have walls. Or the walls have ears. Probably listening devices.” Jolene cast her eyes around the room, then to the floor. “I'm sorry. I'm not so good at the whole talking thing.”

Dipper didn't acknowledge this, nodding towards Calhoun's office—he'd asked the priest to vacate the church for the hunter's visit, and the young vampire was all too happy to do so. Calhoun was genuinely unsettled by Jolene's presence; if he hadn't heard her speak, he might have been intimidated by her as well.

“You're a hunter, aren't you?” Were the first words out of Dipper's mouth when they were safely locked away inside the office. Several crosses had been added to the wall since his last visit, all gleaming brightly with faux silver. “It's easier to proceed if you admit it.” Jolene cocked an eyebrow at him.

“Hunter? Who told you I was a _hunter_?” Jolene asked, leaning back in her chair. “I'm a scientist.”

“A scientist that's running around decapitating vampires?” Dipper asked dryly; he received a nonchalant shrug in return. That seemed to be the woman's main form of communication, at this point. She'd shrugged more times than she'd spoke. “That's a little far-fetched.”

“I _also_ happen to do a little mercenary work. But I'm definitely not a hunter. I'm too busy to go around hunting down monsters that society has deemed as naughty.” Jolene shifted in her seat, again cocking her head like she was listening for something. “I was out collecting bones for a biopsy— The only other man on earth who happened to have the disease I'm studying had his remains sealed in a crypt uptown— Anyway, I was out collecting bones, and a femur for a _witch,_ a witch of all things—” Her voice died in her throat at the look on Dipper's face. She cleared her throat, then continued. “—I left the mausoleum and was attacked. Unfortunately, I only had my bowie knife on me. I wasn't even aware vampires were a thing until the other evening.”

Dipper took a good, long look at the woman. Roughly twenty-two, had to be. Calloused and burned fingers, a slight hitch in her southern drawl. Her eyes were anywhere but on Dipper's, tracing the moulding where it married wall and ceiling, ghosting over the multiple crosses in the room. She had a peculiar, prosody way of speech, yet her eyes were stiff with their curious gaze.

“You're not lying,” Dipper told her, before nodding. Jolene shook her head, lifting a hand and messing with the bun atop her head. “What in god's green earth made you leave a decapitated head on the church steps?” Jolene's eyes snapped up to meet his, lips turning down into a puzzled frown, like she was wondering where _else_ she was supposed to leave it.

“The disease I'm researching isn't a disease at all—it's a poison; a venom from a particularly nasty, supernatural mammal. There are only two human beings that have ever been bitten, and neither of them have survived— After my meeting with that vampire in the graveyard, I decided to compare his blood to the samples I have of the venom. At least to what I have that I've isolated.” Jolene was up and out of the chair with such force that it slammed back against the wall; Dipper took a step back as she stood. Her hands were slowly tapping against her upper thigh.

“And what has that got to do with anything?” he asked. Her head snapped in his direction.

“I'm glad you asked, you see, I knew something was off. Turns out that there are traces of the venom in your undead brothers and sisters, friends, whatever. Which means that the reason both of these men went feral, was because something is transferring the venom to them when they're changed.”

It was like a lightbulb clicked on in Dipper's mind—and a horrifying realisation washed over him in a frigid wave. He took a step back, and then another, and then collapsed in the chair closest to him. Jolene nodded at him, mouth set in a grim line.

“What kind of mammal is it? Is there any way it can affect the undead?”

“It's a dog, much like a grim. It was—well, you don't want to know the history behind it. It's long and relatively boring. You've better things to waste your immortality on.” Jolene's voice was slowing down, gaining a steady beat that was easier to follow. “The venom can only spread through the bloodstream.” Dipper slowly raised his hands to his face, wanting to scream. “Which means that the sire is spreading the venom.”

“Fuck. It's a fucking sleeper,” Dipper hissed out through gritted teeth. “Fucking—”

“I'm working on an antidote. That's what the bones are for. I was primarily angling it towards use on affected humans, but...” She cut herself short, throat working in silence. After a moment she swallowed, then took a deep breath. “...There isn't a human left to save, in short. I can adapt the antidote for use on vampires, provided I can get a blood sample from a healthy vampire.”

Dipper took a moment to consider what the human was saying, looking at her with no small amount of suspicion. Jolene nodded, as if able to read his mind.

“I know it's a lot of information to both process and take on faith.” She patted herself down, searching through her pockets before producing a thumb drive. It was black, and a little beat up, but looked like it worked well enough. “Here. Take a few days to go over it, if you have to. But the longer we wait, the more vampires become infected, and the more likely this becomes a pandemic.” Jolene drew her bottom lip into her mouth, running her teeth over it. “Or worse. The general public realises that you exist, and decides to eradicate you.” Dipper stepped forward, taking the small storage device. He weighed it in his hand, flicking his eyes up to look at her.

“Are you sure you can make an antidote?”

“Sure. I mean, there's a Wikihow for everything, isn't there?” Jolene muttered offhandedly; she laughed at the bewildered look on Dipper's face, before shaking her head. “I'm not an amateur—I've been studying toxicology for years—and before that, physiology, and even biochemistry.” Her eyes, for the first time since they met, glinted with a smidgen of pride. “Google my name, Mr. Pines, you'll see I'm more than qualified.”

 

   

“Hey.” Bill greeted Dipper with a toothy grin as he entered the home, hair mussed from the wind outside—it had been steadily picking up and had nearly blown Dipper's umbrella from his hands. Dipper tossed his umbrella to the side, scowl not lifting an inch. “Is something wrong?”

“Yeah, a lot is wrong. Way too much. Fuck.” He kicked the wall closest to him, hearing it give a solid thud in return. Bill let out an uncertain grunt, toeing his bare foot against the smooth wood of the kitchen.

“Would cuddling help?” Bill asked, mouth twisted in a shy grin. Dipper narrowed his eyes at the human, about to tell him off—and then he changed his mind. Letting his shoulders slump down, he sighed. Bill took a few steps forward, opening his arms—Dipper met him halfway, letting his head fall against Bill's shoulder with a soft thud. “You're a softie.”

“You're going to get knocked out,” Dipper warned, wrapping his arms around the human's middle—he hadn't even known Bill very long, and yet he already smelled like home. “But this is just hugging.”

“Guess we better move somewhere if we're going to cuddle, huh?” Bill agreed, voice a tad airy and tone hard to place. “I say… bedroom.” Dipper slapped his arm lightly, before pressing his face harder against the human's chest. “You've got to give me more to give on. Does that mean yes, no, fuck off? Kind of leaving me in the dark.”

“You are seriously the most infuriating human being that I have ever met. I want you to know that,” Dipper told him, voice muffled by Bill's shirt. Bill laughed at him, running his fingers through Dipper's curls, tugging lightly at them. He tilted his head up, smiling at Bill. “You want me to dramatically complain about what just happened while wrapped up in your arms, don't you?” Bill let out a soft, exaggerated sigh.

“A man can only dream of such a luxury. But then again, I shouldn't complain too much. An immortal boyfriend is already pretty luxurious—can't ask for much more than that.” A soft hum left Dipper's lips at Bill's statement, rocking slightly.

“I don't know, I think you deserve a little bit more. Considering what you've been through,” Dipper told him. Bill pressed a kiss to the top of Dipper's curls.

"Thank you. For thinking like that. But you're the one that's grouchy right now.” He lifted a hand, using it to pinch the vampire's cheek. “It's time for a little bit of cuddle-therapy.” Dipper rolled his eyes, allowing himself to be swayed towards the stairs that led to the second floor. “Courtesy of one William Maximilian Cipher.”

“Your middle name is the dumbest thing I've ever heard,” the vampire stated dryly.

“You're named Dipper. I think if we're arguing about whose name is dumb, you take the cake,” Bill retorted jovially. “But it suits your chubby cheeks, so I'm not complaining.” Another pinch to Dipper's cheek had him pulling away, looking irritated.

“Alright, your cuddling rights have been revoked,” Dipper told him; Bill clung to him, whining lightly and trying to drag him up the stairs. Lips found his in a begging, sloppy kiss that had Dipper's resolve weakening instantly. “Revoked,” he whispered as lips slid against his again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My beta is EmberGlows :3
> 
> Song(s) for this chapter:  
> Mercy by Shawn Mendes  
> No One Else by Meat Market
> 
> Want to stay updated? Click [here](http://everyday-im-preaching.tumblr.com/) to stay in the know!


	19. And I Think She Called It Redemption

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hullo! I know that y'all are very busy people, but if you enjoy this chapter, I'd really appreciate a comment below!

_"I have no one else like him,_

_Who will show genuine concern for your welfare."_

_-Philippians 2:20_

 

Dipper was expecting Bill to get up to some sort of shenanigans—it was just his nature. It made the vampire wonder if he'd always had a penchant for mischief, or if it had happened after the accident. But… Bill didn't attempt anything, really. He simply pulled Dipper close, curling into a question mark around him. He'd occasionally dip down and press a kiss to Dipper's mouth, soft and chaste, or draw his lips across the vampire's brow.

“You're so cold,” Bill told him, pressing a kiss to the curls atop his head. “Do you think that if I hold you long enough, you'll warm up, or is this how you're going to be forever?” the human asked, snuggling him closer. Dipper snorted, drawing his nose along Bill's collarbone.

“It's kind of a permanent thing—it really doesn't make sense, you know. You'd think, since I'm just a walking corpse, I'd chill and warm according to my surroundings.” Dipper drew his brows together. “There's not really a handbook for this.” He tipped his head up, pressing his face into Bill's neck and kissing his pulse point. “Nobody is going to give us any answers either.” Bill drew his legs up, curling them around Dipper.

“Answers are for squares,” Bill told him, nuzzling into his hair. Dipper let out a laugh, slipping his hands up Bill's sides. Bill wiggled away, and the vampire narrowed his eyes playfully. He ran his fingers up and down his sides in a brushing tickle, forcing a laugh from Bill. “No, don't—” Dipper tickled him anyway; the resounding laughter was _beautiful,_ even as Bill flopped over onto his back, Dipper following close behind and straddling him.

“What's wrong?” Dipper asked, lips spread in a grin. Bill was pushing at his arms, gasping for breath when he could. Bill shook his head, trying to roll away.

“Please, can't breathe,” Bill rasped—Dipper's fingers paused, watching as the human gasped for breath, chest heaving. The immortal splayed his fingers across Bill's belly, petting it affectionately as he waited for Bill to calm down. “I thought I was going to die.”

“I wouldn't let that happen,” Dipper told him, making himself comfortable on Bill's lap. In the back of his mind, he vaguely remembered the flash drive in his pocket. Reaching into it, he pulled the tiny thing out and inspected it—it didn't look particularly worthy of holding any world-changing secrets.

“What's that?” Bill asked, shifting on the bed below him. Dipper held it aloft, offering it to Bill. The human took it from him, narrowing his eye and inspecting the beat up, old thing. “A thumbdrive?” Dipper nodded, before extending a hand to take it back.

“Yeah.” He cradled the drive in his hand; Dipper moved off of Bill's lap, settling on the bed beside him and reaching for his laptop on the end table.

“Can I see?” Bill asked, scooting over before Dipper could answer the question. Dipper pursed his lips, drumming his fingers on the lid of his laptop—after a moment, he shrugged. “If it's a secret, believe me, I can keep secrets. Besides, the only place I'll be going without you is work.” He scoot closer, toes curling in the sheets. Dipper sighed.

“Fine, but this is _extremely_ sensitive information. If it gets out, if could cause a city-wide panic. Vampires panicking is not what you want—it's not what _I_ want. I've spent too long talking to too many people to watch the city fall apart now because you can't keep your mouth shut.” He poked Bill's cheek with the flashdrive to punctuate his sentence, earning a snort.

“Don't worry, I'm not going to blab to anyone. Who am I going to tell?” Bill slid an arm around Dipper's back, curling his fingers around his side. “What kind of secrets?” He asked as Dipper opened his laptop and inputted his password.

“The dangerous kind,” Dipper muttered in response, leaning into Bill. “It's a mess, really. Public relations wise, species wise—it's like someone just knocked down a house of cards over our heads.” Bill made a soft noise in agreement, despite not knowing what Dipper was talking about.

Dipper carefully inserted the thumb drive into his computer, waiting for some error message or note about a virus to pop up on screen; instead, his PC simply prompted him to decide what he wanted to do with the device that had been recently attached to his computer. Dipper narrowed his eyes suspiciously. Clicking to open the device to view the files within, his eyebrows shot up on his face and nearly disappeared behind his bangs.

Four folders, all sloppily titled in a series of numbers and letters that Dipper couldn't make head or tails of. Bill was squinting at the screen, lips pursed and eyebrows drawn tight over his eyes. Dipper clicked on one of the folders; it opened to a sprawling, indefinite amount of files that were titled with more intent this time.

“Blood analysis report?” Bill questioned, raising an eyebrow. “What is this all about?” Dipper let out a soft hum, leaning further against the warm human beside him.

“Vampires are… getting sick,” Dipper told him, choosing his words carefully. “We're trying to figure out why, and this flash drive is the first step in finding a way to make them better.” Bill made a soft noise of understanding. Fingers gently brushed some of Dipper's curls back, brushing them behind his ear.

“You care so much about other people,” Bill murmured, pressing a kiss to the vampire's temple. “Even if you pretend to be a huge grouch.” Dipper snorted, opening a document and scrolling through the various charts and numbers—it all looked professionally done and neatly arranged. Simple and straight to the point, even.

“I don't pretend to be a huge grouch. I am one,” Dipper told him, reaching a hand up to pet his cheek. Bill pressed a kiss to Dipper's hand, looking down at the screen. “CBC reports.”

“And highly similar ones—it looks like the author of this piece was comparing both white and red blood cells, hemoglobin, hematocrit, and platelet counts.” Dipper slowly turned his head to look up at the human. Bill was squinting at the screen, lips moving in time with the words he read.

“I thought you were a history teacher?”

“I am. That doesn't mean I can't be interested in medicine,” Bill told him with a shrug. “See here? Look at the counts both here—” He pointed to the left side of the screen, and then the right. “—And here. They both show an extremely high amount of white blood cells. Where you'd want maybe five to ten thousand, both of these blood samples have upwards of _eight hundred_ thousand.”

“Care to explain why that's important?” Dipper quipped; Bill drew his bottom lip into his mouth, before nodding.

“I guess… Well, it might not be important at all. Since we don't know why there are so many, it might not mean anything. But normally you don't see these levels of white blood cells unless  someone is very, _very_ sick. I'm talking chronic, lymphocytic leukemia. It typically starts in bone marrow, transfers to the blood. But this doesn't match up.” Bill's face screwed into a frown, looking troubled. “Typically your red blood cells and platelets would be non-existent at this level of the disease. You'd be suffering from anaemia and would need to be hospitalised.” Noticing the look on Dipper's face, Bill pouted. “I'm not stupid, Dipper.”

“I can see that. Just… didn't expect this,” Dipper told him; Bill's face began to crumple like a wet paper bag, but was interrupted by a kiss to his cheek. “I don't see why you didn't become a doctor, with that brain of yours.” The human's cheeks heated and blushed a soft pink.

“I never could get into the whole cutting people open thing,” Bill murmured. “I, uh, I had a roommate in college, I think. I was told I did, and he was actually going into medicine. I want to say that's where I learned it from—and I kind of just pursued it a little bit after the accident. I was told I used to be really smart, too.”

“You used to be? Bill, you still _are._ Least you sound like you are to me.” Dipper shrugged. “And what bolsters that is that you still pursued schooling, and knowledge, even though you could have just given up.” Dipper heard the soft whimper escape Bill's lips, and then the human was curling up into a ball beside him, pressing his palms to his face. Dipper pushed his laptop aside, focusing his attention on Bill. “Bill?”

“Nothing, don't mind me. Just being emotional,” Bill simpered, a laugh finding its way between his words. He tugged off the cloth eyepatch, dotting it against both of his eyes. Dipper cocked an eyebrow at him, taking away the small cloth square and tossing it away. With gentle, chapped lips, Dipper kissed away the beginnings of tears. This didn't help matters, only pulling a sob from the human. “I… I'm sorry, I'm just not used to—”

“You don't have to explain yourself to me,” Dipper told him sharply, cutting him off. Bill quieted immediately, pressing his face against his shoulder. “You don't have to explain yourself to anyone. I'm not going to expect you to apologise because you have _feelings,_ Bill.” Bill wrapped his arms around Dipper's waist, rubbing his wet eyes against the vampire's shirt. “Okay?”

“I… Yeah, okay. Very okay,” Bill warbled out. “Why do you even want to deal with someone like me? I'm a mess.”

“I don't understand the purpose of that question,” Dipper told him dryly. “First of all, you aren't a mess. Second of all, I don't deal with you. I like you, I have the means to protect you, and I want to do exactly that. Do you think that if I thought you were a burden for even a second, I wouldn't hesitate to throw your ass to the curb?” He brushed Bill's hair back, tangling his fingers in the blonde strands.

“But… You don't ask anything of me in return.”

“All I need you to do is keep your head low and let me take care of it. Don't walk into trouble. Don't try and play martyr. That's what you can do for me.” He pressed a kiss to Bill's forehead. Bill responded by kissing the side of Dipper's neck, tugging him as close as he could at the awkward angle.

Dipper gently scratched at Bill's scalp, letting the human cling to him. He wasn't sure if he was the first person that Bill had tried to reach out to since his accident, but it seemed like it… _Don't humans have therapists for this kind of stuff?_ the vampire muttered inwardly, cupping the back of Bill's head. He wasn't qualified to help Bill, and he wasn't confident in his ability to help the human through three years of pent-up confusion and lack of emotional support. Dipper sighed when Bill squirmed against him, kissing his neck again. He could try.

“What'cha thinking about?” Bill asked, laying his cheek on Dipper's shoulder. Dipper looked down at him, eyebrows shooting up in alarm—Bill's scarred eye seemed a brighter blue than the other one. The vampire let out a quiet hum, letting his eyebrows settle back to their original position.

“You,” he told him, letting his hand wander down to stroke the back of Bill's neck. “And Manisa, the situation with the vampires. The people wanting you dead. The eventual heat death of the universe. Normal stuff.” Bill let out a soft snort, making himself comfortable. “I know that you're all comfy laying up against me like this, but this information is time sensitive—and I can't have this situation getting out of control.” The human let out a quiet whine and tangled himself around Dipper even more.

“I don't want you to go. Just a little bit longer, please?” Bill begged; Dipper let out a disgusted noise, before relaxing in the human's grip.

“Alright. But can we move into a more comfortable position or something? You cannot be comfortable. I know that _I'm_ not,” Dipper groused; the human made a soft noise and accommodated, wrapping him tightly back into his arms. “Also, if for some reason I am an hour late to save this city from being destroyed by ravenous, panicked vampires, I am going to blame _you.”_

“Feel free. I don't mind,” Bill purred, once again curling around Dipper. “If it means I get to spend this time with you.” With a roll of his eyes, Dipper pressed his face against Bill's shirt and inhaled deeply. Something soft had infiltrated his scent, almost like honey. It did nothing to deter Dipper—cinnamon, while heady, had always been a tad bitter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hullo! 
> 
> My beta is EmberGlows :3
> 
> Song for this chapter:  
> High Enough by K. Flay
> 
> Want to stay updated? Click [here](http://everyday-im-preaching.tumblr.com/) to stay in the know!


	20. It Hurts Until It Doesn't

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you have the time, and enjoyed this chapter, I'd love for you to leave a comment below!

_“...who is the faithful witness?_ _  
_ _The firstborn from the dead,_

_and the ruler of the kings of the earth,_

_To him who loves us and has freed us from our sins by his blood.”_

_-Revelations 1:5_

  


Whatever woke Dipper up, it was _intoxicating._ His fangs hurt, painfully demanding that he drink, and take his fill from the warm neck above him. Maybe not even his fill; maybe Dipper would just take a sip—it wasn't until he heard the pitiful, frightened whimper that he paused. His fangs were pressed lightly to Bill's pulse point, nearly breaking the skin. Realising what he had almost done, Dipper flung himself from Bill, sliding off the bed and onto the floor in his panic.

“You didn't have to stop,” Bill told him, voice barely shaking; his eyes were wide, doing a horrible job of hiding his fear. “I told you that you could drink from me—I was hoping for a warning, of course—”

“—I've got to go bring this to Manisa,” Dipper nearly shouted over Bill, wanting to slam his hands over his ears and claw at them. “I'm sorry for trying to feed from you while dozing. I'll get something to drink before coming back.” He was stumbling through the bedroom door, half-expecting Bill to come after him. But the human didn't. Both relief and despair surged through him—Dipper had almost fed from Bill. He had more fucking _control_ than that.

Dipper slammed himself into the wall on the way down, trying to shake the worst of the hunger from him. It was a horrible, painful beast, clawing at his belly and up his throat. It hurt worse that anything else—he would have preferred to have his arm hacked off, or to swallow a vile of silver. He would rather _die._

It was tough, to leave the house. But just the idea of having to face Bill again after… after _that._ Dipper groaned and smacked his head against the steering wheel of his car. Normally it wasn't _like_ this. He'd never feared losing control, when thinking about feeding—Dipper had never cared. Dead humans were dead humans, typically.

“Snap out of it, you shitty excuse for a vampire,” Dipper told himself, pressing his forehead flush to the leather beneath it. “Go get a drink from Gideon, then bring the flashdrive to Manisa—easy. Simple. Then go get Bill some fucking flowers and a nice lunch for putting up with your shit.”

 

“Hey, Gideon,” Dipper grunted as he walked into the morgue, slamming his wallet on the human's desk. Gideon jumped, pen flying from his fingers and skittering across his desk like a frightened spider.

“Lord have mercy on my soul—” He cut himself off; his lips turned down into a frown, expression melting from surprise into concern. “—Dipper, what's wrong, sugar bug? You don't look very good. Something goin' on?” The uncontrolled sob that left Dipper's chest had Gideon up and out of his chair. “Darling, come here, sit down.” The forensic pathologist took a quick jog over to the door, locking it without a second thought. “Now I've only seen you cry once since I've known you, and that was about that snake of a sister you got, right after this hospital was built.”

“Sixty years is a long time to wait to cry, huh?” Dipper joked, slumping down into the desk chair. “Why are you still hanging around this old place anyway? Why haven't they caught you?”

“We ain't talking about me here. We're talking about you,” Gideon told him in a blatant diversion. Dipper grimaced, cringing away from the human. Gideon let out a quiet huff, hustling away for a brief moment. The sound of glass smacking the table brought Dipper's eyes up, resting on the beaker filled with blood in front of him. “Drink. Been around long enough to know what hunger looks like in y'all immortals.”

“You can't exactly say that without a bit of hypocrisy,” Dipper told him, gripping the glass and bringing it to him. Gideon rolled his eyes; he crossed his arms over his chest and cocked a hip.

“I'm afraid of hurting him.”

“Him? That man you've got holed up in your house and bed instead of me?” Gideon asked; there was no jealousy in his voice, only play. Dipper nodded. “I'm gonna be frank with you, Dipper. You ain't gonna hurt that man.” Dipper took a swig from the glass in his hand. “This fear that you've got is enough to prove that. You ain't never been this soft-hearted about any other human than me, and that says something. Says a lot, actually.”

Dipper pressed the beaker to his forehead, licking drops of blood off his lips. He was calming now, fear mildly subsiding at Gideon's words. He flicked his eyes up, lips twitching up into a coy smile. Gideon cocked an eyebrow at him in return.

“What's it going to take for you to admit you aren't human?” Dipper's words got a huff from the forensic pathologist.

“Well I—Dipper Pines, you better stop that nonsense right this minute. Coming in here disrespecting me like that—I even let you sit in my chair.” Gideon threw his hands in the air. “Since you're here, I got some information 'bout that man of yours.” Dipper perked up, taking another swig of the drink in his hand. “But it's gonna cost you; it ain't easy talking to my old contacts.”

“What are you asking for? My first born?” Dipper asked dryly. Gideon let out another huff, stomping his foot against the smooth tile. He pointed a chubby finger at the vampire, cheeks bright red.

“I know what you're thinking, and I ain't no witch,” Gideon protested angrily. When Dipper smiled at him, Gideon faltered. “I ain't no witch, Dipper Pines, I've told you as much before. Don't go around spreading no rumours.”

“I'm not spreading rumours, Gideon. But I definitely don't believe a man who hasn't aged since I've met him. You can't fault me for that,” Dipper told him, leaning an elbow on his desk. There was an assortment of toys and tiny statuettes spread across his paperwork, and he picked up a tiny, plastic turtle. “So about that information.” Gideon nodded at him, stance relaxing.

“Bill was goin' to be convicted a week from the day he got in that car wreck,” Gideon began, tugging over a stool and sitting down. Dipper straightened immediately. “But he was framed. I don't know about the other crimes, nobody would say anything about 'em.” Gideon furrowed his brows. “Somethin' is weird about this though—see, all the papers say that there was someone else in the wreck, someone who died. Not a single news source said who it was. Tried calling around, but nobody would say nothing. Told me the parents didn't want their kid tied up in this mess.”

“Odd. I'm guessing that you pursued this?” Dipper questioned, playing with the little turtle and making him march across the paper in front of him. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Gideon smile.

“Naturally. Nobody was in that car, except for Cipher. When the medics came to the scene, he was saying something about something in the backseat, something that he needed. But his car had been ransacked—like someone had looted it in the five or so minutes it took the ambulance to get there. I'm guessin' whatever they took is valuable. Only person who might know would be Bill...”

“...Except he has amnesia,” Dipper finished, scowling. “So he can't remember shit, let alone the wreck itself. Fuck.” He tossed the toy away from him angrily. “Any good news?” Gideon shrugged, pulling a leg up and tucking it under him.

“Could be. See, Bill had just started a new semester of college—but _not_ for a teachin' degree. He'd switched majors last minute without finishing his last couple courses. Moved to New York and took up biochemistry. Became real good friends with a man named Connor and his girl, Jolene. Couple months later, Connor's dead, and Bill's in a car wreck. Jolene's gone, can't find her nowhere—I Googled her full name, Jolene Stride—and I nearly fainted.” Gideon's voice became quiet now, and he leaned close to Dipper. “That woman that was in here, asking about that old case? Same. Woman.”

“I don't like this,” Dipper muttered in response; a cold, ugly fear washed over him, chilling and stilling him so that he sat like a statue.

“I don't either, sug. But I'm pretty sure that that woman's got something to do with this mess. Couldn't find out nothin' more about him. Nobody has a hit out on him that I can find, but that doesn't mean that there ain't one.” Gideon eyed him critically for a moment. “Is someone trying to kill him?"

“Something bad is about to happen, Gideon,” Dipper told him, refusing to answer or acknowledge his question. He slowly stood from his chair, picking up a Roman guard from the table, looking at the tiny piece of plastic. Dipper pocketed it, before turning to Gideon. “Make sure you stay safe—you have Resolved's number, right?” The human nodded. “If you think you're in trouble, or if you're scared, you call him. He'll take care of you.”

“But not you,” the human said quietly. Dipper shook his head plaintively. “You can have 'em. The toys on the desk. I got them for you.” The vampire snorted, but went back over to the desk to gather them in his pockets. “You're really cute for a vampire—making people think you're scary, but you've got a small collection of army men and samurai hoarded somewhere in that house of yours.”

“I can still kill you, Gideon,” Dipper reminded lightly, finding his dime amongst the sea of plastic now in his pocket. “Just because I collect things doesn't change that.” Gideon chuckled.

“I guess you're right about that one. Now about my payment.” Dipper reached for his wallet, and began to count out twenties—Gideon hopped off of his stool, and once he gained his feet beneath him, he walked over to Dipper. He seemed mildly downtrodden. “Guess I ain't never getting' that kiss now, am I?”

“Don't worry, Gideon. With your inspiring longevity, I'm sure you'll snare a vampire that'll be happy to make out with you. I hear Resolved is single. Again.” Dipper counted out roughly a thousand dollars and placed it aside. “I can set you up on a not-so-blind date, if you'd like.” Gideon shuddered.

“I don't like the way that man looks at me. And those scars on his face scare the hell out of me,” Gideon confessed, collecting money. “You need any blood for the road?” Dipper considered it for a moment, before tossing down another hundred. Gideon eagerly gathered that up too, stuffing it into one of his pockets. “Coming right up, darlin'.”

“He just likes you, Gideon,” Dipper told him; it wasn't a lie. The elder vampire was interested in Gideon—though whether or not it was a romantic interest, he wasn't sure.

“Well so does my Pyrenees, but I ain't lettin' it hump me either,” Gideon huffed as he came back over with the bagged blood. “You be safe out there. Finish that beaker of blood, and make sure you're drinkin' enough. I never want to see you in here that bad again.” Gideon hesitated before lifting a hand and pressing it to Dipper's cheek. “I care about you, and I don't want to see the cleaners haulin' your body off.”

“You say something dramatic like that every time I leave,” Dipper teased; he was rewarded with a sharp pinch to his cheek in return for his sass.

“Well, you keep comin' back, so maybe that's some magic at work there.” Gideon stepped away from him. “Bring Bill on by, sometime. I'd like to meet the man who stole you away from me.” Dipper rolled his eyes and gathered the bags of blood.

“I'll be in touch, Gideon.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My beta is EmberGlows :3
> 
> Song for this chapter:  
> Drink You Away by Justin Timberlake
> 
> Want to stay updated? Click [here](http://everyday-im-preaching.tumblr.com/) to stay in the know!


	21. Liar, Liar

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello friends! If you're not too busy and you enjoyed, I'd love for you to comment below!

_“I was asleep, but my heart waked:_

_It is the voice of my beloved that knocketh,_

_Open to me, my brother, my love, my dove, my undefiled,_

_For my head is filled with dew,_

_My locks with the drops of the night,_

_I have put off my garment; how shall I put it on?_

_I have washed my feet; how shall I defile them?”_

_-Song of Solomon, 5:2-3_

  
  
  


As things were, Dipper decided that he might as well deliver the flash drive to Manisa. That was the excuse that he'd given to Bill, after all. Moodily pulling up to the library, he checked his watch. It was roughly nine. Manisa was probably still asleep — unless she'd changed her sleeping pattern to match that of her human partner. Dipper was already finding himself in that situation with Bill, and it was _unpleasant._ But an unfortunate necessity to keep him safe.

“Dipper?” Dipper jerked, missing the next step; _Resolved._ Dipper's shoulders relaxed, and he let out a soft, relieved breath. As much as he genuinely didn't enjoy the vampire's company, it was nice to see a familiar, trustworthy face. Dipper didn't even flinch as the vampire all but jogged up the steps and laid a hand on his shoulder.

“Resolved. It's good to see you,” Dipper replied honestly; Resolved grinned nervously at him, tongue running along his teeth. “What's wrong?” Dipper asked, brow furrowing — Resolved was a nervous man by default, but this was different. Placing a hand over the one on his shoulder, Dipper gently squeezed

“I haven't seen Manisa in… months,” Resolved muttered. “We mainly converse via email and phone. Dipper, I… For her to call me to her home, her safe space—” He turned to look at Dipper, lips tilting down into a worried frown. “—It's got to be big. Bigger now that you're here. She's called both of us.” Dipper squeezed his hand and shook his head.

“Just you, big guy,” Dipper told him gently. “I mean, I'm here on business. But it'll only take a minute or two. Manisa doesn't pull me in unless it's political. You know that.” Resolved pulled his hand away, nodding. “But I'm not going to lie. There's something going on in town that… isn't _good,_ necessarily.” They began to walk in step now, up towards the grand double doors to the building. Quickly, but not quick enough to grab the attention of passerby.

“Well, I suppose that's what I'm here for. And I suppose you can't tell me anything?” Resolved probed gently; Dipper paused, lips twitching into a frown. Manisa had never told him that he _couldn't_ tell Resolved. He just hadn't because he didn't contact the other vampire often.

“Manisa never told me _not_ to,” Dipper admitted, wondering if he should tell him anything. Resolved was far older, and far more powerful than Dipper — he could handle himself easily if something, or _someone,_ were to surprise him. “What do you know so far?” Resolved pursed his lips, then nodded to the double doors at the top of the steps.

They slipped inside the quiet hall, Resolved whispering so quietly that if someone so much had turned a page, Dipper wouldn't have been able to hear. He listed off that he knew about the hunter, and about the feral vampires that were not-so-subtly making themselves known in the city.

"So you know what Manisa knows,” Dipper reasoned; Resolved cocked an eyebrow at him. Dipper pulled the flash drive from his jacket pocket; the older vampire tilted his head, taking in the small, battered thing. “This has some information that I've recently acquired; that's why I'm here. I'm going to drop it off with Manisa. I'm surprised she managed to get you here this early.”

“I prefer walking through the front door over aerial tricks up the side of the building,” Resolved told him warmly, a soft grin spreading across his face. Grin growing and eyes narrowing, he further teased Dipper. “I also find, in my old age, the sunlight a tad more bearable.” Dipper rolled his eyes and stuffed both hands back in his pockets.

“Sure, old man,” Dipper snapped; they were walking past empty desks. The head librarian was nervously huddled behind her desk, barely greeting the two vampires as they passed by — Dipper winked at her and heard a near-imperceptible squeak escape her lips. “Hundred bucks says that Manisa is pissed.”

“You aren't old enough to gamble,” Resolved told him, hooking a thumb in one of his belt loops. Dipper's expression soured, and he rose his top lip in a snarl. He flashed his fangs, but all Resolved did was laugh playfully. “Well, you used to be, but I used to be property, too. Lots of things have changed since then. I'd like to think for the better.” Dipper grunted in response, gripping the dime in his pocket. “I guess it's not the same for you.”

Dipper shrugged; he couldn't think of much else to do. He didn't have anything to say — Manisa and Resolved knew how he felt about his situation. Dipper couldn't express how badly he wished that he looked older — not necessarily human. Never human. Humans were weak and fragile — they died easily. Dipper didn't want to die. But life would be so much easier if he looked at _least_ eighteen. Even better if he looked twenty-one.

“How's Gideon?” Resolved suddenly asked, tugging Dipper away from his melancholy thoughts. “Well, I hope?” The auspicious rumble in his voice was so obvious that it was _painful._ Dipper let out a quiet hum, letting go of his dime to play with one of the army men in his pocket. “I am, of course, only asking because—”

“—He's doing well. I saw him today, actually,” Dipper told him, trying not to smile. “He asked about you. Sounded worried.” Resolved's eyes lit up at Dipper's lie — Dipper was cackling, cooing at himself like he was being clever. In reality, he was just being mean, and he knew it. “You should go see him sometime. I'm sure it'd make his evening.”

“Do you really think? Oh, I'd hate to impose.” Resolved would have been blushing, if he wasn't undead. Dipper shrugged, flicking at the toy soldiers gun playfully. “But I suppose I should go see him, if he's worried. Just to put his fears at ease.” _Score,_ Dipper hissed to himself.

“Resolved — I'm not going to lie to you,” Dipper told him as he did _exactly_ that. “Gideon is really, really shy. I think you should just… go for it. Go right up and kiss him.” Resolved's expression shifted, looking perplexed. “Trust me. I've known Gideon for sixty years.”

“I don't know if I'm brave enough for that,” Resolved confessed, fidgeting with his fingers. Dipper rolled his eyes.

“Look, all you have to do is tell yourself that you won't fuck it up. And you won't. You have to believe in yourself. Confidence is _very_ attractive.” _I am going to get my ass kicked._ Dipper hummed inwardly, proceeding to smile like an idiot, despite his attempt to hold back. Resolved nodded, interlocking his fingers. “You've got this.”

“I've got this,” Resolved agreed. “Thank you, Dipper.”

 

Dipper had barely taken a step into Manisa's office before he was being ushered back out — it was rushed enough that he honest to God was _offended_ by the way the elder vampire was acting towards him. And for Resolved, no less. Dipper still managed to shove the drive into one of her open palms. He didn't even get a thank you as he left.

“Don't know what I expected,” Dipper muttered, shoving his hands in his pockets. “One minute, when it's convenient, I'm your best friend.” He rolled the dime in his pocket between his fingers. He couldn't complain too much — it was hard to make friends when one was classified as a member of the undead. Especially when the competition was twice as old as oneself.

Dipper made it out of the library without incident. Outside, the sidewalk was empty save for a few children bouncing past and up the steps eagerly. Their mother regarded Dipper with the appropriate suspicion that Dipper felt she should, herding her children away from the scowling, unwashed and messily dressed teenager and into the building beyond. In his head, Dipper was listing every flower shop in town and trying to narrow them down. He wanted something bright, flashy, and _expensive._ Something that said _I'm sorry._ Without needing to say anything. Dipper would say something, of course, but he wanted it to be extra. He wanted Bill to know that he was one-hundred percent aware that his actions were inexcusable.

In the end, Dipper decided to visit a small shop on the west side of town; on the drive over, Dipper had decided that something big, bold, and _yellow_ would fit his situation. He talked for a moment with the florist and browsed the small shop, running his fingers gently along the outside of perky leaves and across the tops of heavy-headed roses. Dipper frowned when he came across the roses in particular — many vampires loved the smell of them, loved to feel them and pluck them with bare hands from bushes that were not their own. Like they were some sort of symbolism.

Dipper, however, found them _disgusting._ Magnolias, on the other hand, suited  his nose just fine. They were just the right level of schmaltzy with their heavy, cloying scent and large, open petals. Hopefully Bill liked them just as much as himself — he'd have to ask the human what he preferred, flower-wise. God forbid it be roses.

 

“Bill?” Dipper called his voice softly into the empty hall; he was half-hoping that the human wouldn't answer him. Moving through the hallway and into the kitchen, Dipper caught Bill's eye as he turned away from the sink. He froze where he stood, locking eyes with Dipper. There was fear in his gaze.

There was a sharp intake of breath as Bill's eyes ghosted over the small treasure in Dipper's arms — along with the boisterous bouquet, Dipper had acquired a curly haired teddy bear with beady little eyes and what he _hoped_ would be a decent lunch. The woman at the counter had promised that it would be _delicious,_ but that meant little to Dipper.

“Hey. I, uh.” Dipper lifted the small bounty as he spoke. “I’m sorry. I didn't know how else to apologise. I shouldn't have tried to bite you. Not without your consent.” He laid the flowers and teddy bear on the kitchen table, turning away from Bill for just a moment. When Dipper turned back around, he was nearly face-to-face with a tearful human. Arms twisted around his back and lips pressed against his, hard. Dipper grunted and took a step back, dragging the human with him.

“Are you sure you're a vampire?” Bill whined against him, kissing the corner of Dipper's mouth, then pecking him softly on the lips. “What kind of monster are you?” Dipper rolled his eyes, his hand slipping down to cup the back of Bill's neck and draw him down into another kiss. He flattened his tongue against Bill's mouth, and his lips parted easily. Dipper felt Bill bodily pushing him towards the kitchen chair behind him, silently begging him to sit down.

“Shut up,” Dipper told him, easily sitting. Bill hooked a leg on either side of him, planting his crotch directly above Dipper's and cupping the vampire's face. “Shut up,” Dipper whispered, hands eagerly going to grip at Bill's ass through his soft, cotton pajama pants . The human was making the _cutest_ hiccuping noise when he pulled back for air. “You know, I'm supposed to be apologising.”

“You already did. God, you already _did,”_ Bill murmured against Dipper's mouth. “Do you realise how great you are? Even if your personality is set on sarcastic jackass ninety five percent of the time.” Dipper rolled his eyes at the human, dipping his head down to nip at Bill's chin. “I think people have been romanticising the wrong type of vampire.”

“I think that they shouldn't be romanticising us at all,” Dipper told him, spreading his legs to better accommodate Bill's size. “And neither should you. Not all vampires can control themselves.”  Bill let out a quiet hum, pressing his feet flat against the floor, further dwarfing the man below him.

“So only romanticise you?” Bill playfully clarified. Dipper pursed his lips, refusing to grin.

“Didn't you hear me? Don't romanticise vampires. It's bad news. It leads towards horrible things.” Bill only hummed at him, kissing his face and along the bridge of his nose. “Are you listening?”

“Nope,” Bill told him cheerfully. “Busy.” His lips caught the corner of Dipper's eye, and then his eyebrow. Dipper tilted his head to the side and received a pleased sigh; Dipper felt infinitely smaller than Bill in this position. Bill's body was draped over his with ease, his scent surrounding him like a blanket. It made it easy to let his hips press up, a tiny roll that Dipper couldn't promise that the human felt. A flashback reminded him of his solo performance in the shower, and Dipper groaned inwardly at the idea of spreading Bill out on his bed, naked and flushed. Gritting his teeth and shaking his head, he dug his fingers into Bill's thighs. He couldn't. Even with Bill in his lap, languidly kissing him. He just _couldn't._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My beta is EmberGlows :3
> 
> Song for this chapter:  
> Chemical Angel by Watsky
> 
> Want to stay updated? Click [here](http://everyday-im-preaching.tumblr.com/) to stay in the know!


	22. 21A: Circe's Interlude

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: THIS CHAPTER IS NOT CRUCIAL TO THE STORY PLOT
> 
> That put aside, if you enjoyed this chapter, please leave a comment below!

 

“ _In vain I have struggled._

_It will not do._

_My feelings will not be repressed._

_You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you.”_

_-Jane Austen, Pride and Prejudice_

 

Gideon tilted his head to the sky, letting smoke escape his lips and twist towards the clouded sky. A cigarette was tucked snugly in his fingers, ash from the tip dangling precariously. Work had been easy, and the evening easier still—that was why he had moved to this city in the first place. Why _anyone_ moved to this city. It was safe. Boring, sometimes. But _safe._ As long as you didn't anger the Council or expose their _children_ , you were guaranteed asylum from any who would do you harm.

“Dunno why it has to be so overcast all the damn time,” Gideon grunted, leaning forward to balance his elbows on his knees. “Everythin' is overcast.” He flicked the ashes of his cigarette to the sidewalk below, watching as the damp ground extinguished the embers. Taking another drag, he used his free hand to comb down his pompadour, letting it fall around his face in a loose, almost glowing white frame. The strands were a bit on the crinkly side, what with the amount of gel and hairspray that he'd used—but it was also four-thirty in the morning on a typically abandoned park bench.

“It has been raining a lot.” The voice was rough and shy, and all too familiar. Gideon turned his head, catching sight of the dark vampire stepping from the shadows; the lamplight caught on the bits of gold that had been woven into his braids. Gideon shrugged, scooting over on the bench and petting the area beside him. Resolved ignored him.

“What are you doing out so late, Resolved?” Gideon asked, taking another drag of his cigarette. “Huntin'?”

“Not hunting, no.” Resolved was within a foot of Gideon now. The pathologist noticed how tightly his arms were clasped behind his back, no doubt gripping each other tight enough to bruise the skin. “I was hoping to catch you before you made your way home. I needed—well, I still need to talk to you.” Resolved shifted his weight, eyes pointed toward the ground. Gideon looked the nervous vampire over, and then sighed.

“No need to be shy, honey bunny. I ain't got no fangs to bite you with,” Gideon told him. “Somethin' wrong?”

“No. No, nothing is wrong, per se.” Resolved hesitated where he stood, and then cleared his throat. “I would like to tell you something—I have meant to say this to you for a long time—ever since Dipper allowed you sanctuary.” The vampire had moved to stand in front of Gideon, and now lifted a hand to cup the pathologist’s jaw, tilting his face up. “You are _stunning._ ” Gideon moved to protest, but lips were on his before he could say anything.

The kiss was chaste in nature, no fangs or tongue present. Gideon let out a confused hiccup, falling back so that the bench braced his back. Resolved pulled back briefly, muttering something unintelligible before falling to a knee to get a better angle on Gideon's mouth. Brow furrowing, Resolved captured Gideon's mouth again, this time _hungry_ for him. The hand on Gideon's jaw tightened, and the pathologist let out a tiny gasp at the sheer amount of passion in the kiss.

Gideon was dumbfounded. He knew that the older vampire had feelings for him, but to just come out and _kiss_ him. It was such a daring, unexpected move that had Gideon kissing back, gripping at Resolved's braids and tugging him close. He was confused, sure. But fuck if Resolved wasn't good at making him feel like he was the only thing of interest in a hundred mile radius.

In the back of his mind, there was a tiny voice that was telling him that this was all a big joke, despite evidence to the contrary. After all, Gideon was soft in all the wrong places, and had too much fat in others. Even with the hands that gripped his sides, kneading the pudged flesh, and the whispered chirps from Resolved when he pulled back to allow him breath, Gideon couldn't banish that voice.

“What d'ya think you're playin' at?” Gideon panted out, flinching when fangs nipped at his neck. “Get your mouth away from there.” Resolved's lips pouted against his skin, and he nuzzled it gently.

“I am not playing a game, Gideon. I want you.” His thumb dragged across Gideon's cheek, followed by a soft bite that didn't break the skin. “I thought you felt the same.” He went to pull away, but a tight grip on his braids stopped him.

“Sugar.” Gideon tried to follow the word with something—anything. Instead he pulled Resolved back; he was already regretting his decision to kiss the vampire again. “Sugar, please. Don't.” Gideon pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth; Resolved corrected his mouth immediately, connecting their lips and kissing him hard. Gideon's cigarette fell from his hand, dropping to the ground below as both of Resolved's palms cupped his face, holding it still.

The first press of a tongue against his lips reminded him of _fire._ It was so cold that it burned, dancing along his lips and pressing forward. Gideon couldn't find the strength to resist, parting his lips and letting the large, blunt tongue surge into his mouth. The pathologist groaned loudly, legs shaking on either side of the man kneeling in front of him.

Kissing Resolved was like biting into a snow cone on a hot day; he was icy cold and sharp, yet there was a sickly, cloying taste on his tongue that left Gideon weak. Resolved really was _sugar._ Gideon found himself sucking Resolved's bottom lip into his mouth, trying to taste more, _consume_ more.

“Breathe,” Resolved grunted into his ear. “Do you live close?” Gideon had enough sense to shake his head; he couldn't let Resolved into his home. “Then my place will have to do.” Gideon let out a low whine, shaking his head again. “Why not?”

“I've got work tomorrow, sug,” Gideon said  in a pant. “You know as well as I do that this is gonna get back to someone if I leave your house tomorrow evenin'.” Resolved shrugged, and Gideon shuddered as a hand moved up, flicking a thumb at his clothed nipple.

“I really don't care,” Resolved told him. “Besides, and take no offence at this, but I can protect you. And yes, before you say anything, I am aware of your abilities. But it always helps to have allies.” Lips dragged across Gideon's cheeks. “Be _more_ than my ally, Gideon.” The pathologist frowned, then sighed.

“That's askin' a lot, Resolved.”

“I know. Believe me, I know.” Resolved let Gideon go, stepping back. “I am aware of that, Gideon. I'm sorry for presuming.” He cleared his throat, and fixed the suit he was wearing. Gideon's tongue refused to work, watching as Resolved pulled a business card and a pen from his jacket. He spent a good minute writing out the information, before handing the card to Gideon. “My address, and my number.” Leaning over, Resolved pressed a final kiss to Gideon's temple. “Please, consider this. I adore _you._ ”

 

Gideon sat on the bench for an hour, at least. Business card in his left hand and lips swollen from Resolved's attention. Half of him wanted to program the address into his GPS and march his needy ass right to Resolved's door. The other half of him wanted to burn it, wanted to go home and just forget the entire thing happened. Instead, he found himself pulling out his phone and dialing Dipper's number.

“Hey,” Dipper answered; there was the soft sound of breathing in the background, close enough to the phone that Gideon could hear. “Something wrong?”

“Resolved kissed me and I know it's your fault, you dirty little rat,” Gideon said, swallowing down the thickness in his voice. “What's your angle? This is a bad joke, and you know it.”

“I have no idea what you're talking about,” Dipper told him; there was no sound of pride in his voice, nothing to give him away. But Gideon remained suspicious all the same. “Gideon, have you ever considered that he actually likes you? If you don't like him, you don't like him. But if you think you could, or if you _do…_ You should give him a chance.”

“A chance?” Gideon sounded alarmed at best. “You think I should give that ol' beast a _chance_?”

“Yeah. I do. If you want to. I'm not playing matchmaker here by any means. Stake my heart and hope to die, or something like that.” There was a low whine in the background. “Shit. Look, I'll call you later, Gideon. Bill's having a nightmare or something.” The phone clicked off and Gideon let his hand fall back into his lap.

 

“Now look here, Gideon.” The pathologist was standing in the elevator, counting the floors as it went up. “You ain't gonna turn this into anything serious unless you want it to be.” His feet tapped on the floor to a beat he couldn't hear. “Why does he got to live at the top of this damn tower? Leaves too much room for doubting,” Gideon grumbled, toes curling in his shoes. He should have went home and freshened up a bit.

The doors finally parted with a cheerful chime; Gideon fidgeted for only a moment before slipping into the hallway on the other side. It was decorated heavily with bright, African textiles, probably older than Gideon himself. From the time before—Gideon turned his head toward the door at the end, the only door, and continued walking. It was easy to look at Resolved and forget that at one time, he was a slave.

Resolved answered the door on the first knock; and Gideon nearly turned on his heel right then and there. Resolved was half-dressed, a dark towel wrapped loosely around his hips, revealing his heavily scarred and powerful torso. His eyes darkened at the sight of Gideon, cheeks bright red and embarrassed. He'd expected the vampire to be dressed, at least.

“Gideon,” Resolved greeted. “Would you like to come in?” Gideon nodded, letting his eyes travel back up to rove over the exposed flesh. The vampire didn't seem to mind, wrapping an arm around Gideon's shoulders and pulling him in. “Would you like something to drink? Something to eat, perhaps?” Fingers brushed down the side of Gideon's face, pinching at his chubby cheeks.

“Water would be nice,” Gideon replied; fingers slid into the collar of his jacket and then down, divesting the pathologist of it in a second.

“Not wine? I have pop, too.” That deep, southern rumble was enough to have Gideon flush even darker. “Lemonade?”

“Just water, hun.” Gideon whispered out. “Please.” His coat was taken away in the vampire's arms, and Gideon sent a quick prayer to the Mother for good luck. He was going to need it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My beta is EmberGlows!
> 
> Song for this chapter:  
> Bittersweet Tragedy by Melanie Martinez
> 
> Want to stay updated? Click [here](http://everyday-im-preaching.tumblr.com/) to stay in the know!  
> 


	23. Hell Is Paved With Good Intentions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! A day late and a dollar short, huh?  
> If you like this, and you've got a little time to spare, I'd love for you to leave a comment below!

“ _His cheeks are as a bed of spices, as sweet flowers;_

_his lips are like lilies, dripping sweet smelling myrrh._

 

_His hands are as gold rings set with beryl;_

_his belly is as bright ivory overlaid with sapphires_

 

_His legs are as pillars of marble, set upon sockets of fine gold;_

_his countenance is as Lebanon, excellent as the cedars_

 

_His mouth is the most sweet;_

_yea, he is altogether lovely._

 

_-Song of Solomon 5:13-16_

 

  
Dipper was a goddamn _liar_.

Somehow, some way, he'd let Bill drag him up to the bedroom. Well, _almost_ to the bedroom—they'd taken a small detour that had Dipper pressed against the wall of the hallway, hands lifting him into the air and urging him to wrap his legs around Bill's torso. Dipper was eager to comply, twining his fingers into Bill's hair and locking him into a kiss that had the human whimpering for air.

  
“Fuck,” Dipper hissed, fangs lengthening when he pulled back for air. “We shouldn't do this,” he whispered into Bill's ear, his toes curling as fingers pinched at his nipples. “Bill, we _shouldn't_ do this.” The human let out a malcontent grunt in between his panting, latching on to Dipper's jaw and suckling.

  
“Do you want to stop?” he whispered against the vampire's jaw, before biting down. Dipper let out a small whine. “Because… because I'll stop,” Bill told Dipper, voice strained. “Are you uncomfortable with this between us?” He was pulling away, searching Dipper's eyes. Dipper shook his head, kissing the corner of Bill's mouth. “Dipper—”

“—Just fucking kiss me, Bill,” Dipper hissed angrily, tugging on Bill's hair. Bill was quick to start kissing Dipper again at the order, happily letting his fingers dip beneath Dipper's shirt to splay across his back. Bill trailed away from Dipper's lips so he could nip and bite at the vampire's neck, taking the tough skin between his teeth and biting, attempting to bruise the skin.

“Damned vampires,” Bill growled, working a piece of skin between his teeth. “How am I supposed to let everyone know you're mine if I can't even leave a hickey?” Dipper laughed airily at the complaint, shaking his head and rolling his hips against Bill's abdomen as best he could. Bill let out a soft groan when Dipper moved, letting his long fingers dance down Dipper's thighs, smoothing over his jeans and dipping into the folds.

 

Dipper let out a squeak as he was pulled from the wall and tipped forward; he collided with Bill’s chest. He let out a dissatisfied grunt, jerking Bill’s head to the side so he could mouth at the human’s neck. Bill was making his way down the hallway to the bedroom, happily groping Dipper the entire way.

The bed gave an unhappy groan as Bill lay Dipper on it, straddling the vampire’s hips while he kissed him. Dipper let his hands wander, slipping from Bill's hair to caress his neck and dance along his clothed collarbone. Bill's heart rate was through the roof; Dipper could hear it as clear as day, accompanied with a level of arousal that Dipper hadn't known with any other partner.

“You're so fucking cute,” Bill growled, hips working in a smooth, practiced grind against Dipper. The vampire couldn't help but gasp, canting his hips upward to meet the needy movement.

“I have literally murdered people. Right in front of you,” Dipper told him, hooking a leg around Bill's back. “And you think I'm cute? Jesus Christ.” He threw his head back, sighing as he listened to the grunts and panting breath of his bed partner above him. Lips were trailing down Dipper's neck, and insistent hands were pushing the vampire's shirt up. Bill's fingers found the vampire's nipples, pinching them playfully.

Bill moved momentarily so he could tug Dipper's shirt off, tossing it away from them. It hooked on the baseboard of the bed, hanging off of it and fluttering like a white flag. Teeth scraped Dipper's chest as the flesh was worshipped by Bill, the human leaving sloppy kisses across the pale skin. Bill's fingers were playing with Dipper's belt, turning the leather in his palms as he attached to a perky, pink nipple and began to roll it between his teeth.

“Bill, you can take off my pants,” Dipper teased, lifting his hips into Bill's palm. “I'm not going to back out now.” Bill let out a soft choking noise, before undoing Dipper's belt and button—the pants slid free with little resistance, giving up the pale flesh underneath so it could be worshipped by Bill. His fingers trailed across the skin, breath hitching as he noticed Dipper's cock straining against his underwear.

“You do want this, right?” Bill asked, his fingers shakily moving to the buttons of his shirt. “I'm not forcing you?” His question was followed up by his shirt coming undone. Dipper rolled his eyes, pressing up against the hand that was lingering tantalisingly close to his cock but not quite touching it. Leaning up, Dipper got a firm grasp on Bill's ear, lightly pinching it to get his attention.

“Do you think that you would be touching me right now if I didn't want this?” Dipper told him, voice hushed. He drew his knuckles down the side of Bill's face, grinning when Bill blushed. “But if you aren't comfortable with this, we don't have to.” Dipper uncurled his fingers to brush Bill's cheek—the human was beautiful, he decided. Especially when he was unsure.

“I want this. I want to...” His fingers cupped Dipper's thigh, caressing the skin once more. “...I don't really know what I'm doing, if I'm honest. I mean, I'm sure that I've done this before—but...” Dipper couldn't help but laugh, letting his fingers trail down the shell of Bill's ear. Tilting his face up, he pressed a gentle kiss to Bill's lips.

“Lay back,” Dipper whispered. “Let me take of this, alright?” Bill's cheeks heated further, and he nodded. He let himself be guided back onto the bed, turning his head so he didn't have to look at Dipper.

Dipper began to kiss Bill's jaw, suckling here and there. He let his fangs prick Bill's skin, not breaking skin or causing the human to bleed—but every sharp poke of teeth against flesh had Bill's breath hitching in his chest. Dipper let his hands wander down Bill's chest, smoothing his thumbs over the human's nipples and getting a whine in return.

“You're so warm,” Dipper purred, kissing between Bill's pectorals. “Like a space heater.” He lapped at one of the perky nipples that were peaking on the human's chest, eager for attention. Bill squirmed underneath the vampire, throwing a hand up to cradle the back of Dipper's head. “I want to curl up inside you and just _melt_ .” Dipper curled his fingers around Bill's sides, switching to give attention to the other nipple.

With a gentle nuzzle, Dipper let out a sigh as his wandering mouth found the plane of Bill's stomach—it was remarkably soft and flat, with just enough fat that Dipper could suck pieces into his mouth and tease it with soft sucks and nips. Bill wiggled his hips, breath coming to him in gentle uneven pants. Dipper ran his tongue along Bill's happy trail, tongue dipping into the human's belly button.

“Wait, uh, before you go. You know, lower,” Bill interrupted quietly, breathing heavy. “I don't feel comfortable with the fangs. In that area. I hope that isn't a deal breaker or anything.” Dipper paused, lips pursed into a grim line; he had to use every bit of his willpower to not laugh at the nervous man below him.

“No fangs near the dick. Got it,” Dipper teased, undoing Bill's belt and then pants. “Ye of little faith—thinking I can't give a blowjob without nicking the cock I've got in my mouth.” The vampire curled his fingers around the waistband of Bill's pants, tugging them down a bit too eagerly. His hand found Bill's cock, then wrapped around it—a solid pump had Bill arching off the bed; a low moan dripped from his lips, and his hips strained upward, begging for more friction.

Dipper made his way back up Bill's chest, dragging his tongue liberally over Bill's skin. A way of spreading Dipper's own smell—the sickly sweet, decaying smell that Bill would never experience—it would seep into the human's flesh, claiming him. It would ward off most vampires. But in some cases, it might encourage them to challenge Dipper by trying to take Bill away. The very idea of it made him growl, low and hollow in the back of his throat.

“Dipper.” Bill breathed his name so quiet, it could have been the wind. His hands had wound themselves in his hair, gripping at the blond strands and twisting them between his fingers. Dipper chuckled and caught Bill's mouth in his own, catching the next moan the human made. Arms wrapped around Dipper's neck, tugging him closer so that Bill could kiss him hard.

“How far do you want to take this?” Dipper asked, sliding his thumb across the thin slit at the top of Bill's cock, pressing gently. The human let out a choked noise, head falling back. Without a word, he widened his legs, hips rocking up into the hand jacking him off. “Do you want me to fuck you, Bill?” Dipper asked, punctuating his words with open mouthed kisses to Bill's neck. Bill nodded vigorously and dug his heels into the bed, blinking rapidly to banish the sweat from his eyes.

“Please. _Please_ ,” Bill begged, chest heaving. “Dipper, I need it.” Dipper chuckled, kissing Bill's earlobe.

“Don't worry, I'll give you what you need. I'll _spoil_ you,” Dipper hissed. Bill whined at him, focusing his eyes on Dipper; his bottom lip was pushed out into a pout that was occasionally interrupted by a pink tongue. Dipper was happier than ever that Bill had decided to hand the reins over to him. As content as he was to let Bill fuck him, he had been daydreaming about feeding from Bill while pounding him into the sheets. And it didn't seem like Bill was going to try and stop him.

Dipper pulled his hand away, and was rewarded with the most pitiful noise he'd ever heard a human make—the vampire kissed Bill's throat in apology, temporarily sliding off the bed and walking across the room.

“Just getting something to slick you up with. Don't want to hurt you,” Dipper promised, opening a drawer on his dresser and plucking the lube from inside. At the sight of the lube, images of dark skin and gentle, groping hands flashed through his mind—he'd had other bed partners before Bill, not incredibly recent, but recent enough that—wait, did lube expire? Dipper cocked his head to the side, looking over the bottle.

“If it's less than a year old, it's good,” Bill told him smugly. “Water and silicone don't spoil, only oil does. So as long as it isn't oil-based—” Dipper zipped over to the bed before Bill could say anything else, knocking the breath out of Bill as he landed on him.

“I didn't know you could still talk,” Dipper grumbled, kissing him and stealing any breath he had left. Bill chuckled as well as he could, wrapping his arms around the vampire again. “I better fix that, huh?”

“You wish you could,” Bill teased, kissing and licking at Dipper's mouth, tracing the vampire's lips with his tongue.

“Is that a challenge?” Dipper questioned, cocking an eyebrow—Bill wiggled his hips and Dipper shook his head, unable to keep from smiling. “You're going to regret that,” he promised, running his free hand through Bill's hair. “Now, Bill. Feeding is typically a big part of having sex with a vampire. Is that something that you're comfortable with? If you're not, I won't feed from you.”

Bill's eyebrows furrowed, and Dipper waited while thought over the decision. Eventually, he raised his head, and nodded shyly.

“Yeah. I'd like that. I want you to feed from me,” Bill told him; he was hushed at the end of his sentence, Dipper shaking his head once more, this time with a frown.

“Not because you feel like you need to be useful. This is purely pleasure based. For both parties,” Dipper told him sternly, popping the cap on the lube and spreading it liberally over his fingers. “If at any point you feel uncomfortable, tell me and I'll stop,” the vampire said, rubbing his fingers together to warm the slick liquid. It dripped between his fingers and rolled up between his knuckles as he did so.

“Can you do that?” Bill asked, visibly twitching when Dipper's fingers vanished from his line of sight. His toes curled and dragged at the sheets, but he forced his body to relax. Dipper drew his fingers across the human’s entrance, trailing a heavy amount of the liquid on his fingers along it.

“You suggesting otherwise is offensive,” Dipper told him with a scowl, pressing down lightly and getting a warbling whine from Bill—taking it as a signal to go ahead, he inched a finger in.

The human was far warmer on the inside than he was on the outside—Bill clenched down around the intruding digit unconsciously, and Dipper reached out to pet the human’s side in comfort. Dipper kissed the corner of Bill's mouth, whispering hushed, lilted words of comfort to the man below him. Bill was gobbling them up greedily, kissing and hissing into Dipper's mouth as the finger inside of him twisted and stretched and searched. It wasn't long until Dipper was introducing a second one; Bill let out a small whimper that was quickly banished with the work of a hot tongue on his jaw.

“I've daydreamed about you,” Dipper whispered. “Laying out beneath me like this.” Bill shuddered, face twisting away from the vampire. Dipper chased his mouth with whispers and promises, twitching his fingers up and pressing them sharply against Bill's prostate—Bill's body arched off the bed, a strangled cry erupting from his throat.

Dipper gripped Bill's cock, stroking it as he continued to rub at Bill's prostate.The way that Bill panted and groaned, attempting to thrust up and rock back on the fingers that were inside him at the same time—it made Dipper's cock twitch. Bill looked so damn delicious. His head was thrown back against the pillows, chest rising and falling with great, heaving breaths. One of his hands was twisted in Dipper's hair, tugging and curling around the locks it found.

Bill came into Dipper's hand; he was so loud, making a noise that sounded like a half-sob of Dipper's name. Dipper watched in fascination as Bill made a mess in between their bellies and all over the vampire's hand, face contorting in pleasure. Nails dug into Dipper's back, keeping the vampire close.

“You okay?” Dipper asked, having pulled his fingers from Bill and wiped them off on the bed beside him. He was petting the tops of Bill's thighs, smoothing his clean hand up and over the human's belly to rest on his chest. Bill nodded, licking his lips and pulling Dipper as close as possible, nuzzling Dipper's neck and looping his arms around it. “I'll take that as a yes.” Bill nodded again.

“You're so good to me,” Bill slurred, licking at the skin of Dipper's neck. “So good.” The vampire chuckled, cleaning off his cum-covered hand as best he could on the sheets beside him. He then hooked a hand underneath Bill's upper calf and tugged it aside so he could slip between the teacher’s thighs with ease. Another click of a lube cap and Dipper was slipping off his boxers—he coated his cock liberally in the cold substance, pumping himself to warm it as well. Bill was about to be a bit uncomfortable, and the warmer he could make it for the human, the better.

“You're going to feel a little cold here in a moment, okay?” Dipper murmured.

“It's kind of like cold play,” Bill muttered, pressing his cheek against Dipper's shoulder—he seemed tired, and Dipper almost reconsidered continuing. But Bill's statement caught him off guard.

“Coldplay? Like, the band? The one that sings, uh… the song about fixing people? _Fix You_ , I think?” His sass earned him a harsh tug at his hair, and Dipper snorted.

“Temperature play,” Bill grunted, correcting himself. “Smart-ass.” Dipper chuckled, rocking down and knocking his hard cock against Bill's soft one. “Just because you're older than dust doesn't mean you have the right to sass me.”

“I don't need to have a right to sass you,” Dipper teased, slipping a hand between his legs, lining up with Bill's entrance. “I just can. How are you going to stop me?” He ended his sentence with a kiss, and pushed forward. Bill's breath hitched and he tensed—he quickly relaxed, letting Dipper kiss away the discomfort.

  
Dipper, on the other hand, realised just how hard it was going to be to restrain himself. Bill was so hot around him, so warm and welcoming. So _trusting_ . Dipper could easily break him, and the idea was both heady and terrifying. So he moved his hips gently, murmuring reassurances the entire way, until he was pressed all the way inside of the human beneath him.

“Of course, the only part of you that matures is your dick,” Bill hissed, inhaling sharply. “ _Fuck_ , you feel so big in me.” Bill wiggled his hips, and Dipper snapped a hand up to grip his hip and steady him. “Sorry, sorry,” the human whined, licking his lips.

“You're adorable,” Dipper stated, rocking his hips forward and receiving a squeak in return. Dipper ran his hands up the inside of Bill's thighs, caressing the tanned skin. “And your body is so warm. God, I might actually melt.” Bill laughed, even as his toes curled and his face pinched in mild discomfort. The human hooked a leg around Dipper's back, unintentionally fluttering his lashes, mouth opening into a soft, rounded circle.

Dipper let his hands wander to cup Bill's barely-visible breasts, rubbing his thumbs over the soft, dusky nubs. Bill let out a gentle hiccup and Dipper caught it before it left the human's lips, rolling his hips forward in a controlled thrust. He wouldn't—couldn't hurt Bill. Not with him—not with him being him. Not with Bill being his.

Bill was groaning and grunting, letting out his approval of Dipper's pace. His fingernails dug into  the vampire's back, almost hard enough to leave marks. Words of praise slipped from his mouth like honey; and Dipper was eating it up. Setting his pace, he was carding his fingers into Bill's hair and playing with it while taking over the human’s mouth and stealing his breath away.

“You're so handsome,” Dipper whispered, rubbing his thumb in soothing circles against Bill's hip as he slowly fucked him. “I bet you taste divine.” Bill whimpered, trying to shove his hips down—Dipper took it as a sign to pick up the pace, but he refused. He might conisder it when he got used to fucking a human again. “You'd like me to bite you, wouldn't you? Bet it would send you over the edge.”

“Please, _please_ . Please bite me—” Bill gasped out, jerking his head to the side and offering his throat. “—Please.” Dipper let out a loving sigh; just a sigh, twitching his hips and Bill gasped, body shaking. Bill began to really beg then, twisting his hips and body so that Dipper would press _right there_ inside of him.

Having sex with Bill was fantastic, the way his body hugged Dipper's cock. But the real treat was the way Bill sounded. The way he moaned and whined and begged for Dipper to fuck him harder, to bite him—and the way his body heated where Dipper's fingers held him. How he gasped when Dipper pressed an open kiss to his neck, craning it farther up. Bill was babbling, begging. Mumbling out words that Dipper knew the human didn't realise he was saying. It was wonderful. But it couldn't last forever.

“I'm going to feed,” Dipper hissed out, nicking Bill's neck with his fangs. The blood beneath sang to him, and he didn't wait anymore—and with his own orgasm was rushing through him—he didn't think he could. And when he bit down, Bill's body snapped into an arch, slamming his chest into Dipper's and wailing.

The world slowed down for Dipper. Fangs pierced flesh and Dipper's saliva went to work, preventing Bill's blood from coagulating—Dipper had been told by previous partners that it sent some sort of signal to the prey's brain, something that relaxed them and sent pleasure coursing through them. He’d never gotten into the science of it. Dipper assumed that someone knew how it worked and, in all honesty, he couldn't say he cared.

The first taste of blood on his tongue, though— _that_ he cared about. Dipper groaned, happy and immediately sated by the flavour that flooded his mouth and had his eyes rolling back in his head. Bill tasted like nothing that Dipper had tasted before, even in the others he’d taken blood from. It was so hard to describe, mind nearly going blank at the taste of it, his hips stilling. It was manna from proverbial heaven.

Dipper had to rip him away after the first mouthful. Mouth bloody, tongue searching every corner of his mouth to lick away every bit of the liquid from his teeth and gums. Bill was still shuddering and gasping, unable to get a full breath of air—the space between their bellies was slick with cum. Dipper winced as he moved; he hadn't even realised he had orgasmed. But he did realise that he hadn't used a condom, and now Bill was a mess. Inside and out.

“Hey, Bill,” Dipper murmured, pressing his fingers to the side of Bill's neck. He licked his lips, mouth going dry at the idea of drinking from the human again, right now, while Bill was distracted. He shoved it away, tapping the side of Bill's neck again. “You okay there?” Bill nodded, reaching a hand up and placing it over the one on his neck.

“ _Thank you_ ,” Bill rasped, turning his face toward Dipper. “That was… exceptional. Am I going to feel that every time you bite me?” Dipper shrugged, brushing the base of Bill's jaw gently, smiling at him and lifting himself off the human.

“It's different for everyone,” Dipper told him, gently pulling out and wincing as he did so. “Sorry, about. You know. The mess.” Bill snorted, shaking his head. He went to pull himself up on the bed, realised he didn't have the energy, then fell back down.

“My legs feel like jelly. God, you are _strong_ . I'm going to feel this for days,” Bill said, sounding proud. He paused, tugging Dipper back down. The scent of Bill's blood was almost overwhelming at this distance, and Dipper let out a hungry whine. Bill heard it and before Dipper could protest, he pulled the vampire's head closer to the still-open wound on his neck. “Go ahead.”

“Bill, no,” Dipper said softly, even as he nuzzled the flesh. He _could_ clean it up.  

“You barely bit me. And you have to be hungry,” Bill insisted. Dipper shook his head, jostling the hands free and moving to kiss Bill instead, letting him taste the lingering remnants of his own blood.

“No. I bit you just enough,” Dipper told him, kissing the corner of his mouth. “Let's get you cleaned up—I'll start the shower for you, get you something to wear. You have work tomorrow, and...” Dipper broke himself off with a laugh. “...You're going to be walking funny.” Bill didn't even look ashamed, though his responding grin was worried. “What's wrong?” Bill shrugged, looking away from Dipper.

“I just...you were so careful. I just hope you enjoyed yourself,” Bill muttered. Dipper cocked an eyebrow, then shook his head. “You _did_ enjoy yourself, right? I can't imagine I compare well to a… supernatural partner but—” Dipper smiled gently, the corners of his mouth curling knowingly.

“Bill, you are _perfect_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well hello there! 
> 
> My beta is EmberGlows :3
> 
> Song(s) for this chapter:  
> Wires by The Neighbourhood  
> Fractions by Through Juniper Vale
> 
> Want to stay updated? Click [here](http://everyday-im-preaching.tumblr.com/) to stay in the know!


	24. Collateral Damage

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello there! If you find yourself enjoying this chapter, please, I beg thee leave a comment below! I'd really appreciate it,  
> and it motivates me to not only write this fic, but other content!!!  
> \\(^0^)/ otherwise, enjoy!

_Brother will betray brother to death, and a father his child; and children will rise up against parents and cause them to be put to death._

_-Matthew 10:21_

 

Bill fell asleep not long after he'd showered, sprawling out on the bed with little grace. Dipper was laying on top of him, pressing his ear to the human's chest. Bill's heartbeat was strong and powerful, beating out a steady rhythm as he slept. There were bruises from where Dipper had grabbed him too roughly, and Dipper occasionally ran his fingers over them, caressing them as lightly as possible.

“You're really handsome,” Dipper told the sleeping mortal; Bill snorted and flopped an arm around him, stroking his shoulder. “And you are a _really_ big nerd. Don't ever change.” The vampire pressed a kiss to Bill's breast, before pressing his cheek against it once more. Halfway through a heartbeat, Dipper's phone rang shrilly, screaming and shaking on the desk beside him. With an irritated snarl, the vampire snatched it from the desk and pressed it to his ear.

“—Dipper.” The voice was strained and rough, but it was obviously Resolved. Dipper snapped into a sitting position, body rigid and tense as he listened. “Library,” he panted, and there was a sharp, pained snapping followed by a growl.

“Resolved, what's wrong?” Dipper asked, pulling himself from the bed. Bill groaned and flopped on to his side, blinking sleepily at the vampire. The pathetic mewl that left the human, followed by groping, trailing fingers got Dipper hushing him gently. “Resolved?”

“— _betrayed._ Just—betrayed us—” The phone call was cut short, grinding into static and then, eventually, the busy signal. Dipper pulled the phone from his ear, staring at the phone in detached horror—he barely had time to furrow his brows when he heard a frantic banging on the downstairs door. Bill jerked out of bed, eyes growing wide in fear.

“Dipper, what's going on?” Bill whimpered, reaching out a hand and ghosting his fingers down Dipper's back. The vampire reached back and pet his arm lightly, stroking the top of it.

“I don't know. But I'm going to find out.” Dipper got to his feet with a grunt, popping his shoulders with a languid roll. “Stay up here until I either come back or say it's safe, alright?” Bill nodded, reaching down to grasp the edge of the blanket and pull it close to his chest. Dipper gave him a small smile, and he grinned back shyly. Bill's gaze darted down and he fiddled with the top of the blanket in his hand and Dipper rolled his eyes.

_Cute._

Gideon's scent hit him before he was halfway down the steps; the pathologist’s voice came next. It was broken sobs, begging Dipper to open the door. Bubbled crying made it hard to discern what he was saying in its entirety, but Gideon's obvious distress was enough to have Dipper yanking open the door. Gideon barreled into the room and into the vampire's arms, wrapping them tightly around the immortal.

“Dipper, _Dipper.”_ Gideon rubbed wet eyes against the cloth of Dipper's chest, shoulders shaking. “Dipper, Resolved, he—” Dipper wrapped Gideon in a one-armed hug, reaching a hand out to shut the door behind him. Gideon was nothing short of a _mess._ His hair was hanging limply around his head, and his entire form was drowning in sweat and the kittenish smell of fear that batted at Dipper's nose and lips. Previously bared fangs slid from their home—not ready to feast, but to _protect._

“What's wrong?” Dipper demanded, locking the door. “Gideon, what's wrong?” The vampire asked, shaking him slightly. When Gideon pulled away, his face was bloated with grief and fat tears rolled over his cheeks, streaking his face in thick lines.

“I… I was with Resolved and she called him, the old cow,” Gideon blubbered out, accent so heavy and thick underneath his bawling that it was hard to understand what he was saying. “I went with him, and—Dipper, we don't have time to talk, you gotta get to the library. She’s done something to endanger all of us. And it involves that little human of yours.” Dipper visibly flinched back, face twisting from confusion to rage.

“Who?” Dipper demanded, fingers digging into Gideon’s shoulders. The pathologist’s eyes went wide. There was a heartbeat of a pause, filled with a sharp, panic-stricken intake of breath.

“ _Manisa._ ”

“Stay here. Bill is upstairs,” Dipper growled out, reaching up on the shelf beside the door. His fingers skittered across the dusty wood and over the handle of his Beretta until they brushed metal—it was cold, and it stung _horribly_ as he yanked a triad of slender items down. Gideon's heaving breaths began to calm as he looked at the silver stakes in Dipper's palm.

“Oh, sug,” Gideon muttered quietly. Dipper was jerking on his jacket and shoving the stakes into the inner pocket, teeth gritted and face twisted into a grimace as he did so. “Honey, please be careful—”

“—Shut _up,_ ” Dipper snapped, zipping up his jacket. After a second of consideration, he reached for the Beretta as well. “We both know that you're about as human as me.” Dipper grabbed the extra clip as well, stuffing it into his pocket. He gripped the gun loosely in his free hand, and wheeled around to look Gideon in the face. “I know you're going to deny it until the day you die, but I swear to _God._ If anyone tries to break into this house and you don't use every _ounce_ of your power to _obliterate_ them, _I will drag your ass back from hell to kill you myself._ Do we have an understanding, Gideon?”

Gideon nodded shakily, fingers entwining—sparks, bright blue and lively, danced over his knuckles.

“Good.”

 

 

Dipper didn't have the patience to drive. He would have broken the steering wheel if he'd tried. Instead, he slid through the city in the shadows, darting between buildings and along streets long forgotten by the general public. Paths made for vampires, for werewolves, for the supernatural creatures of the night who couldn't let themselves be seen. At least, not by humans.

“Resolved?” Dipper's voice called into the library, echoing through empty rooms. Scenting the air, Dipper's brow furrowed—definitely blood. And _definitely_ vampire blood. The blood of vampires he _knew._ Vampires he _trusted._ His eyes flashed white, and Dipper gripped the gun in his hand tighter. A low hiss accompanied a death rattle sliding out of his throat, slithering through the air and around the bookshelves. “Manisa.” Her name wasn't a question, nor was it quiet. If anyone was still in the library, they would hear him.

A loud clatter had Dipper cocking his head to the side, listening as bookshelves toppled over themselves and a growl ripped through the air—Dipper rolled to the side as books came raining down from the second level, bookcase crashing over the side as well and landing with a loud splintering on the area beside him.

“What have you done?” Dipper demanded, pushing off from the floor with a bounce of his heels; he soared through the air, but had little time to enjoy it as another shelf slid across the floor and caught the railing. Dipper briefly caught a shelf underneath his foot, using it as leverage and sending it speeding down to the floor. Attempting to right himself, Dipper caught the railing with his heel. It fractured instantly; slivers of wood near- _exploded_ across shoddily placed throw-rugs and across children benches.

“I wanted to keep you out of this as long as possible.” Manisa's voice drifted from somewhere amongst the stacks, terse and brimming with rage.

“Where's Resolved, Manisa?” Dipper asked, carefully stepping over fallen books and shattered glass. There was no answer. “Did you kill him?” His question was met with a shrieking howl, causing the bookshelves to shake and shiver.

“What does it matter to _you,_ ” Manisa hissed; Dipper saw something in the shadows twitch, and he ducked away as Manisa lunged; she corrected her path before she slammed into the bookcase. Dipper took a step back from her, easy and collected. Manisa had seen better days—clothes covered in blood, hair singed and partially burnt from lord knows what. “You… you would understand if you knew what was at stake by letting him know. By letting _you_ know.” Dipper stepped aside when she moved, but was caught in the chest by a swift kick that sent him skidding across the floor, slamming into the wall nearby. Pain flashed through him, beginning in the centre of his chest and unfolding outwards.

Manisa was hunched on all fours, walking like a cat atop of a fence. Dipper shook his head, reorienting himself and then hissing, low and threatening.

“I asked you a question,” Dipper snarled out, lips peeling back to reveal his teeth; gone were any semblance of human molars or incisors. Jagged, monstrous mutations had replaced them, jutting out at odd angles. They were like a cemetery built in the marshes, sunken-in and cockeyed. “Answer me, you fucking _wagon._ ” Dipper was slurring now, voice thickened and heavy with his accent. “Did you kill him?”

“As if,” Manisa snapped, cocking her head to the side with a painful _crack._ “I didn't mean for it to come to this. I didn't mean for it… to...” She cut herself off with a guttural noise, almost a growl. “...I'm sorry it's come to this, Dipper.” Dipper ripped himself from the wall, digging his bare feet into the floor and launching himself across the room. And then everything _stopped._

The hand that was reaching into his jacket for the stakes—maybe the gun— _stopped_ . His legs _stopped._ His entire body seemed to give out, slumping on the ground like a misplaced rag doll or puppet whose master had gotten bored. Heat and pain blossomed in Dipper's chest. The pain began to outbid the heat for control of his body, and he could feel the blood dampening his jacket and slickening his chest. Letting his eyes wander down, he let out a choked gasp. A stake, deathly sharp and glinting in the light, was poking from his chest.

“It's not silver,” the attacker told him, a hand gently reaching out to pet his curls. The voice was oddly affectionate and foreign to him. Dipper squinted, as if it could help him hear better. To give him some sort of hint about the monster who’d struck him down.

“We don't have time to placate his fears,” Manisa hissed. “Come, we leave now, or not at all. That was the deal.” There was a soft, unhappy sigh that left Dipper wanting to lift his head—to see the nasty hellion that had stabbed him. But Dipper could only listen as heels, ever familiar, clicked away into the receding darkness of the library.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading my brews from the home!
> 
> My beta is EmberGlows :3
> 
> Song(s) for this chapter:  
> The Drug In Me Is You by Falling In Reverse  
> Coming For The Throne by Otherwise
> 
> Want to stay updated? Click [here](http://everyday-im-preaching.tumblr.com/) to stay in the know!


	25. Memories

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's take a moment to reflect....
> 
> As always, comments are APPRECIATED BEYOND RATIONAL COMPREHENSION. I would love to hear what you think of this chapter!

 

_“Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,_

_I will fear no evil,_

_for you are with me;_

_your rod and your staff,_

_they comfort me.”_

_-Psalm 23:4_

 

Vampires didn't die, when they were staked through the heart. They were rendered almost completely immobile, paralysed until the stake was removed. It often gave the attacker—most likely a vampire hunter—the time they needed to properly kill the affected vampire. If, like Dipper, you weren't killed instantly, it gave you time to think. A _lot_ of time to think.

Dipper didn't normally dwell—it was bad for the soul, or so he'd heard. So when the memory of Mabel swam to the forefront of his mind, he went to nudge it away. But right before he could chase the idea of her away, he paused. Her face flickered in the front of his mind, in all of its chubby-cheeked, freckled glory. Mabel smiled coyly at him, fingers raising and slipping through his mind to grasp at him, dragging him down deep into his memories—Dipper didn't bother to fight it, letting himself be pulled back to a time when his life was comparatively horrible.

There were some days that you just remembered. It didn't matter if it was ten years ago or a hundred. They just lingered in the back of his mind like the taste of black licorice; thick and bitter. And the day that Mabel had turned him was one of those days.

It had been their sixteenth birthday—which was probably the shittiest part of the entire deal. Dipper and Mabel had been given leave from their parents to enjoy the rapidly cooling weather, with a strict order to come home before the sun had half-set or there'd be no cake for either of them. They'd agreed in unison, darting off through fields of green grass. The blades had pressed stinging kisses to their ankles as they ran, threatening to send them sprawling to the ground with each rushed step.

“Dipper, _Dipper,_ ” Mabel had chanted, throwing her arms out on either side of her, face upturned toward the overcast sky as she did so. The sun had kissed the side of her face when the clouds parted, adding warmth to her wide smile. “I have something amazing to tell you.” Dipper, who had decided to recline on the grass, cocked an eyebrow at her.

“And what's that? Found yourself another boy toy to break the heart of?” Dipper had teased, crossing his ankles. Mabel had let out a soft giggle, rocking back on her bare dirty heels. “Don't give me that look, you harlot.” His twin had paused to gasp playfully, pressing a hand to her mouth.

“How dare you,” Mabel had accused, going to kick at him. Dipper had rolled out of the way, flattening the grass beneath him as he did so. His hands had come up to protect his head instinctively. “Resorting to calling your own sister names.”

“I'm not the one flirting with every boy in town,” Dipper had retorted, scrambling away as her hands sought him out. Whether to hit him or tickle him, he hadn’t wanted to find out. Mabel had been persistent, however, and didn't stop following him until she had successfully locked an arm around his head and pinned him to the ground.

“You would if you could,” Mabel had told him, voice lilting like that of a songbird. Dipper's chest and throat had tightened traitorously, and he’d slammed his hand against her arm, trying to wriggle out from beneath her. She’d bounced on his back, laughing. Dipper had grabbed her arm and squeezed, digging his nails into it hard enough to draw blood—Mabel had yelped and jerked back from him. He’d then rolled out from underneath her, wiping at his eyes to get rid of the tears.

Mabel had watched him for a moment, before rolling her eyes.

“You don't need to worry. I won't tell mum or da you're into sodomy. That's for God to judge and all.” Mabel had crossed her legs beneath her, fixing her skirt so that it covered her adequately. Dipper had refused to look at her, good mood gone. “What's wrong? I'm just playing with you.” Again, Dipper had ignored her, staring off into the sky instead. He’d squinted against the harsh sunlight, lips drawn down into a miserable expression.

Mabel had sighed and shook her head. With a grunt, she’d moved over to sit beside Dipper and look off into the distance with him. Silence, awkward and tense, had stretched between the two of them.

“It is about a boy, if you're wondering,” Mabel had told him lightly, folding her hands into her lap. “I've been keeping it a secret because, well...” She’d tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Because I think I love him.” It had been Dipper's turn to roll his eyes.

“You don't love him,” Dipper had told her tiredly, moving to stand.

“Well, how would you know?” Mabel had snapped, cheeks puffing out as she pouted. “You've never been in love. In fact, you've never even looked twice at a girl. I don't think you even know how to love.” Dipper, who'd just gotten to his feet, visibly startled back. His mouth had fallen open slightly, eyes searching Mabel's expression.

“What has that got to do with love? I love our parents, our great uncles. I love _you._ Despite what a wretched viper you've become,” Dipper had told her incredulously, shaking his head. He had turned away from her—he'd rather spend the rest of the day holed up with his books than with Mabel. The older she got, the more selfish and offensive she'd become. He'd thought, just for today, that she'd have made herself tolerable. “I'll meet you back at the house.”

Mabel… hadn’t returned to the house that evening. There had been no cake, in light of her disappearance; no celebration. Dipper's father had even gone so far as to blame Dipper for returning to the house without her, demanding to know if they'd fought again. Dipper had shrunk in his father's gaze, stuttering out a bold-faced lie. Of course they hadn't fought; she'd simply wanted some time to herself. Dipper had told him that Mabel had mentioned a boy. That really stirred his temper, and he'd gone to grab at his gun.

And that had been when Dipper's life had shattered. In fact, it had not only shattered, but it had been dashed to the ground and promptly crushed beneath his sister's boot heel like a beetle.

The living room door had slammed open—his father barely had time to demand _why,_ before Mabel was on him, eyes frenzied and hungry. She had lunged at his neck, tearing at the flesh like some kind of deranged animal. Dipper hadn't even thought to try and save him, instead gathering his feet beneath him and stumbling from his house with all the coordination of the town drunk. He hadn't been sure if that was really his sister or some demon wearing her skin at the time, but he hadn’t been prepared to find out. Not for anyone's sake.

Not that he’d had much of a choice, of course. Looking back, hiding in the barn hadn’t been the best plan. Couldn't change it now, but it was nice to know that hindsight was still twenty-twenty. It had taken all of thirty minutes for Mabel to finish their father off.

“Dipper.” Mabel's voice had sounded heady and drunk, rolling off her tongue with ease. “Brother, where are you hiding?” She’d laughed then, as if she'd said something incredibly funny. “Well, I mean, of course I know where you are. But there's no need to be afraid. I'm not going to hurt you.” There had been a large thump, followed by a pained whimper—Dipper could have recognised his mother's voice anywhere. His mother had begun to scream within seconds, making any number of shrill demands. There had been the muted thud of a boot walloping skin, followed by the brief sound of cracking bone. Dipper had only considered it brief because the wailing of his mother had drowned it out almost instantly.

The strong hand of someone he didn’t recognise had slid into his hair and yanked; Dipper had then been dragged across the floor, almost too surprised to properly react. He’d tried to twist his body away, screaming as his flailing had proven useless. He had tugged at the hand in his hair and found it immovable. Dipper had been dragged right before Mabel by the stranger, about ready to wet himself. Their father’s blood had been painted across her lips like war paint and her eyes had seemed as white as bleached bone.

“Are you sure about this, darling?” A man above him asked. “He's your brother.” A popping of knees and the man had crouched down. Dipper would never forget that face—it was like he’d been bored of the situation. “He really doesn't deserve the honour.” Fingers, far too chilly to be anything other than a corpse, had traced his jaw then. Mabel's expression had turned from joyful to irritated at the man’s words.

“I said yes. He's my twin brother—I would never leave him behind. He's not like my parents.” Mabel's lips had spread into a soft grin as she’d looked down at her brother. “Isn't that right, Dipper? You were always there for me; you always took care of me. We're best friends. Where one of us goes, the other follows.” The man behind Dipper had snorted, moving some of his hair out of the way from his neck.

“If that's your wish, love, I will easily comply.” Dipper had tried to yank away when he’d felt lips touch his neck. “Get ready to feed him, Mabel. If he's not fed close enough to death, we will lose him—and while I will support your endeavour to bring your brother with you, I will not do it for you.”

“Mabel, what—” Dipper had began; Mabel had pressed a single finger to his lips, hushing him. His sister had knelt in front of him, brushing some of his hair from his forehead. Kneeling between Dipper’s knees, Mabel had then gently cupped his face and brought it close to hers. Lips had pressed against his, butter soft and sweeter than any boy he’d ever kissed.

Dipper had been _disgusted._

“I'm sorry, for earlier today. I shouldn't have antagonised you. I'd hoped to explain this is in better detail; perhaps tell you of my plans.” Dipper was shifted so that he had sat comfortably between the man's legs. They’d pinned him in place. “Take this as my apology… and my hope that we can be better friends in the future.” She’d pressed a kiss to his forehead, and Dipper had felt the barest presence of fangs on the other side of her top lip. “And don't worry, Tad and I will take very good care of you. We've even brought you something to eat.” In the background, Dipper had heard his mother make a dazed, frightened noise. Dipper had gone to shake his head, but it’d been steadied by a comforting hand against his cheek, and another kiss to his forehead.

“This will hurt,” Tad had breathed into his ear. “But then again, dying always _does._ ”

 

The soft, cold stroking heated—and quickly. It turned from ice to licking, persistent pillars of flame that felt more like a series of repeated slaps against his cheek. He managed a weak snarl before it turned into a whine at the smell of blood. It was so _close._  

“Dipper? Hey, are you dead?” Dipper's shoulders relaxed, and then tensed. _Jolene._ “Well, I mean, I guess you technically are. But I guess I meant re-dead,” Jolene told him in a thoughtful hum. Dipper cracked an eye open at her in distaste, baring his fangs. “Not re-dead, got it. What'd you get into a fight with, anyway? How'd you get stabbed? Your friend got stabbed too. He, uh. He didn't respond. I don't know if that's because he's dead or—”

“—Stake,” Dipper croaked. Jolene cocked her head to the side. “Take. The. Stake. _Out,”_ he managed to gasp out. Jolene flicked her eyes down to the piece of wood in his chest.

“Oh. Yeah. Should have done that first,” Jolene muttered to herself. “I'm going to go out on a limb here and say that this is going to hurt.” There was a brief moment in which Dipper wanted nothing more than to strangle the woman, but closed his eyes instead. “Well, excuse me—I've never pulled a stake out of a vampire's chest before,” she continued to mumble, but not to Dipper. With more strength than he'd ever thought a human could have, she gripped the back of the stake and _pulled._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My beta is emberglows o3o
> 
> Song(s) for this chapter:  
> Biting Down by Lorde  
> Down To The River by Brown Bird
> 
> Want to stay updated? Click [here](http://everyday-im-preaching.tumblr.com/) to stay in the know!


	26. Sippy Cup

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! If you life this chapter, please leave a comment below!

_ “The sun turned black like sackcloth made of goat hair, the whole moon turned blood red, and the stars in the sky fell to earth, as figs drop from a fig tree when shaken by a strong wind.” _

_ -Revelations 6:13 _

 

 

Dipper had never loved the sound of wood clattering across wood more than in that moment—as soon as the stake was removed, he let his body slam heavily against the floor. Every inch of him was aching for sleep—and  _ food. _ Dipper hadn't been this hungry since the night he was changed. He would have typically fed off of Jolene due to convenience alone, but there was something off about her blood—something just didn't  _ smell  _ right. Dipper's stomach turned at the idea of drinking from her.

“You need to eat, I think,” Jolene muttered; she tugged at the messenger bag slung over her shoulder, bringing it into her lap. “Now, I'd love to let you just rip into this...” Jolene pulled a full, bloated bag of blood free; Dipper zoned in on it in an instant, and if he'd been stronger, he'd have catapulted over to rob it from the hunter.

“ _ Give it to me,”  _ Dipper demanded, voice low and thirsty. Jolene cocked an eyebrow at him. “ _ I need it, _ ” he continued to rasp, hauling himself up weakly to grab at it.

“Question first,” Jolene said—she pulled a scalpel from her bag next, uncapping it with one hand. She made a small slit at the top, and then set it to the side. After a bit of shuffling, Jolene proceeded to pluck out a bendy straw and inserted it into the newly made hole. Dipper watched in utter bewilderment as she did so, unable to completely process what was going on.

“Did you just put a straw in the blood bag?” Dipper asked, drawing his brows tight over his eyes. The confusion was enough to briefly stave off his hunger. “What question?”

“Do you know who did this?” Jolene asked, waggling the bag playfully. Dipper narrowed his eyes at her, lips raising in a snarl. “Look, I need to know if I need to be packing lead or silver.” Again, Dipper was caught off guard. “Don't look at me like that, I'm not avenging you.” Jolene shook the bag again; the scent was picked up by the breeze and Dipper's mouth threatened to water—and it would have, if he were human.

“I… didn't see them. But silver bullets will kill a human just as easy,” Dipper told her. Jolene swore, but handed the makeshift juice-box over to the vampire. He took it without question; somewhere in the back of his mind he thanked the hunter for the straw—it meant he didn't have to rip into the plastic, which wouldn't have been nearly as pleasant.

Dipper also considered how much  _ dead  _ blood he'd been drinking lately. However, the blood in the bag was mildly warm to the touch, and didn't particularly taste of plastic like some that had cooled and been stored away in the fridge for safe-keeping. This led Dipper to believe that it was far fresher than not.

Jolene proceeded to stand, and began to pace with almost _ frantic  _ movements in front of Dipper.

“Okay, uh—wait, no. That's not—” Jolene's face screwed up in distaste. “—No.  _ No. _ It wouldn't work, I'm not a dog,” she hissed at herself. Dipper watched intently, eyes wide as he sucked down the blood like a middle-aged college dropout would nurse a beer at the local bar. The second that the liquid had hit his throat, the burning need to  _ feed  _ had disappeared, and he was left to enjoy the almost savoury flavour in peace.

Dipper finished the bag of blood far too quickly, near whimpering at the loss of it. It was exceptionally good for bagged blood. Almost  _ too  _ good. And as much as he'd like to have written it off as hunger making everything taste better, he had a feeling that wasn't the case.

“Where'd you get this?” Dipper asked, holding out the now empty bag. Jolene turned her attention toward him, and seeing that he had finished, knelt to dig into her messenger bag. She repeated the same process as before, ending with another makeshift blood bag that Dipper instinctively reached for.

“It was genetically engineered,” Jolene told him, remaining in a kneel in front of him; Dipper's chest burned as his body began to repair itself, reminding him that he needed the blood in his hands. “I mean, it was originally taken from a human with polycythaemia—then I introduced it into a new host who I'd been experimenting on.” She held up the blood bag and gently tapped the label. It was written in code, with lines and symbols that Dipper couldn’t make head or tails of. Dipper regarded her critically for a moment; she rolled her eyes. “I was doing testing on white blood cells—I want to mutate them in order to better deal with infection.”

“You're experimenting on humans?” Dipper asked, taking the second bag, heavily suspicious. It was Jolene's turn to look incredulous.

“I… Yes. I am,” Jolene replied, expression turning quizzical. “I pay her well. It's not like I'm doing anything incredibly dangerous—the polycythaemia isn't cancerous. Even if my experiments were somehow harmful, humans are… well, there are over seven billion people on this planet—no one is going to miss one or two. But  _ you  _ already know that.”

Dipper nodded, sticking the straw from the new bag in his mouth.

“You talk about humans as if you're not one,” Dipper prodded. Jolene shrugged at him, grabbing her bag and getting to her feet.

“Do you have a photo of this… Manisa? If she's turned on you, who knows who she's going to go to with that information.” Jolene slid the bag over her head, readjusting it so it sat nicely on her hip. Dipper shook his head, and the hunter sighed. “Alright. You should check on your big friend over in the nonfiction section, then make your way home. The sun rises at five-fifty seven, and it's already three. Oh, and Dipper.”

“Yeah?”

“Keep Bill safe,” Jolene told him; she proceeded to walk toward the nearby staircase, humming to herself as she did so. A cold, uneasy feeling washed over Dipper, chilling him to the bone. The melody was far more familiar than he liked, and he wanted desperately to interrogate her. But something about the hollow sound her voice echoing off the walls—it had him frozen where he stood.

 

Resolved quickly became Dipper's top priority, when he could move again. The blood that Jolene had provided him with was more than enough to heal him and restore a good portion of his strength. He had saved over half of the second bag for when he found Resolved. Dipper battled through tipped-over bookcases and tables, taking note of the extensive damage and cringing—Resolved didn't go down nearly as easy as he did.

Dipper found the elder vampire underneath a bookshelf—but there was no stake or obvious wounds on him that Dipper could see. That didn't mean that he hadn't been injured. Dipper moved the bookshelf with a light kick, sending it across the room—the impact with the wall had it shattering, the shelves popping from the bookcase and spitting out onto the floor.

“Resolved?” Dipper murmured, rolling him over onto his back. Resolved wasn't dead, but he wasn't doing  _ well.  _ Had Jolene simply abandoned him because he didn't respond? Dipper gently brushed Resolved's braids to the side, letting his hands wander over the coarse hair. If he focused, he could see the thin, golden ropes that Resolved had woven into them, glinting in the dim moonlight.

“Still as pretty as ever, huh?” Dipper teased, pinching the older vampire’s cheek lightly.

The following sequence of events were a blur.

Resolved shot up like he'd been electrified, fangs bared and eyes void of colour; Dipper had startled back, but not fast enough to get away from the larger man. He was barreled over in an instant and forced flat against the floor. Resolved brought up a hand to force his head to the side before digging his fangs deeply into Dipper's neck.

Dipper  _ howled.  _ He screamed and thrashed and pushed at the parched vampire like a rabbit about to get its eyes plucked out by a hungry crow. Resolved growled heavily against his neck, tugging sharply on his hair. The blood he'd recently drank had been in his system long enough to heal him, but it wasn't enough to fully feed another vampire, let alone one as large as Resolved.

After a minute of painful, unwanted feeding, Resolved pulled back, breathing heavily. His lips found Dipper's jaw and left a bloodied kiss there. After a minute he turned his head to see his victim, and horror flashed on his face.

“Dipper? Lord have—Dipper, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to—” Resolved scrabbled back as quickly as he could. “I… I was…”

Dipper placed a hand against his neck, willing it to heal over. He'd dropped the bag of blood when he had been knocked to the ground, and it had partially spilled over onto the carpet. Dipper reached for it with his free hand, refusing to look at Resolved. Vampires drank from other vampires, but normally you'd ask permission first.

“Dipper, I’m sorry. I didn't mean to attack you like that,” Resolved tried again. “Manisa, she—she—”

“I know,” Dipper told him, bringing the bag to him and moving the straw so it swung around and back to his mouth. Resolved definitely wasn't getting the blood  _ now.  _ Not after he pulled that shit. “Her accomplice stabbed me through the chest.” He tapped at the bloodied hole in his shirt.

Resolved's eyes took one look at the previously injured area, then looked away.

“Jolene, the hunter? She brought me this.” Dipper rapped a finger against the bag. “Pulled the stake out of my chest, asked what we were fighting, then left.” He slowly stood, brushing off a splinter that had attached itself to his jeans. “I don't know where she's going or what she's doing, but I think it's safe to say she's not going to kill us in our sleep.” He used his free hand to pat down his pants, looking for what remained of his cellphone. There was no way that it had survived.

“True,” Resolved agreed, looking out the nearby window. It had been shattered at some point during Resolved's fight—most of the glass had fallen outside the window, but the pieces that remained glowed white in the moonlight; they shone like misshapen pearls. “Manisa explained nothing, said  _ nothing.  _ She just...” The elder vampire shuddered, then slowly returned his gaze so he could look at Dipper. “...Did you ever think that she would turn like this?”

Dipper's brow furrowed.

“We need to get somewhere safe,” Dipper decided, ignoring his question. “There are a lot of vampires in danger, if Manisa's off her rocker.” His wandering eyes caught on the silver rim of a dime, laying in a halo of broken glass. Dipper gritted his teeth and knelt down, grabbing the well-worn coin. “My place. For no other reason than house rules still apply.” Resolved made some sort of noise of agreement, but Dipper barely heard it as he turned over the smooth, metal coin. “Resolved.”

“Yes, Dipper?” He questioned, cocking his head. Dipper held up the dime, revealing what was carved into the back of it. “Fin? As in the fish or...?”

“The end.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My beta is the one of a kind EmberGlows!
> 
> Song for this chapter:  
> Vampires In The Sun by the Spin Doctors
> 
> Want to stay updated? Click [here](http://everyday-im-preaching.tumblr.com/) to stay in the know!


	27. Cross My Heart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so tired. So, so, so, tired. I also want donuts. o3o  
> Please send donuts.  
> .....if you can't send donuts, but you liked this chapter enough that you WOULD, then please leave me a comment below! Heck, even if it wasn't donut worthy, I'd love to hear from you!

_ “But if I say, _

_ ‘I will not remember Him, _

_ Or speak anymore in His name,’ _

_ Then in my heart it becomes like a burning fire,  _

_ Shut up in my bones; And I am weary of holding it in, _

_ And I cannot endure it.” _

_ -Jeremiah 20:9 _

  
  
  


“This is fucking stupid. What kind of macabre, fortune teller bullshit is  _ fin _ ?” Dipper demanded, pocketing the coin and slamming his way down the staircase. With every step, his rage grew. It twisted through his veins, consuming him. “Carving some stupid fucking word on some stupid coin—” A thick-fingered hand landed on Dipper's shoulder, stopping him. Dipper had reached the end of the stairs without knowing.

“Dipper.” Resolved said his name softly, gently squeezing his shoulder. “It's okay, Dipper.” The younger vampire's mouth opened to argue with him. It was  _ not  _ okay. It wasn't okay at all—Manisa had  _ betrayed  _ them—he'd been staked, he'd been hurt by someone he'd trusted. He'd helped build a city, a sanctuary with Manisa and Resolved, and she'd  _ betrayed  _ them.

Instead of words, Dipper's sadness, Dipper's  _ despair  _ spilled from him in the form of a sob. Resolved's arms folded around Dipper, pulling him into a warm, comforting hug. Dipper couldn't believe that he was crying over something like this. He pounded his fist against Resolved's chest, body shaking as he did so.

“It's okay, Dipper,” Resolved murmured, stroking his back. Dipper shook his head, grabbing at Resolved's dusty shirt, nails digging into the cloth. “It's going to be fine.” The older vampire squeezed Dipper, hugging him tightly. “We can't change what she's done, but we can save what we made together. Alright?” Dipper shook his head again, inhaling the sharp scent of the Resolved's cologne. “We have to get out of here.”

“Yeah,” Dipper replied, pulling back and rubbing his tears away. “I've got to check on Bill.” Resolved cocked his head to the side, hand lingering on Dipper's lower back for a few minutes longer than necessary. “And Gideon is at my place.” A bitter, off-putting scent assaulted Dipper's nose, and he frowned. It was familiar, but Dipper couldn’t quite place its origin—was it  _ natural  _ gas that smelled faintly of garlic?  Lord knew that the last thing they needed was a gas leak.

“Bill?” Resolved asked, frowning at the bloodied spot on the back of Dipper's jacket. Dipper nodded—he hadn't told Resolved that he'd taken a human lover. At Dipper's silence, Resolved pulled his hand away. “I see. It's good to see that you're putting yourself back out there.” The older vampire's tone was light as they walked towards the door. He coughed lightly as the gas smell grew stronger, and he could actually see pools of it now, littering the main floor of the library. That wasn't a good sign.

“It's been awhile, yeah,” Dipper muttered, shoving his hands into his pocket—his fingers burned when he knocked them against the silver stakes still in his pocket. The awkward air that settled between the two of them made Dipper almost want to use one on himself. “After you know, Marie and then…” He gestured between the two of them. “It's not… It hasn't appealed to me.”

“No doubt that you had other things on your mind as well, during that time,” Resolved told him, folding his arms behind his back. His nails dug into his sleeves, slicing through them with ease and pressing sharply against his skin. “After all, you were having that spat with your sister and all. She's quite persistent.”

At the mention of Mabel, a sour, unsavoury taste filled Dipper's mouth. He shook his head, picking up his pace toward the door. Resolved followed, lips pursed.

“I would burn her myself,” Dipper hissed under his breath, not having to turn to see the shock on Resolved's face. “She's absolute  _ filth,  _ Resolved. She deserves nothing less.” Resolved opened his mouth to reply, but was cut off by the door opening in front of them. Dipper and Resolved watched in muted silence as it was closed quietly, and a rather distraught looking Calhoun stood in the way of the exit.

In one hand was an empty gas can, and the other was a silver lighter.

“Fuck,” Dipper growled out, fangs gritting together. “Not you, too. Calhoun, no.”

Calhoun offered Dipper a weak smile, then shook his head sadly.

“I'm sorry, Dipper. I didn't want it to come to this,” Calhoun told him, voice bordering on ethereal. Dipper closed his eyes and brought a hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose. He shook his head and clenched his teeth, trying to process the scene before him. Resolved looked at the priest with calm acceptance, nodding slowly in realisation.

“What are you going to do? Burn us alive?” Dipper asked; he spread his arms outward, looking around at the splintered bookcases, the kerosene soaked rugs. The old pillars around him seemed to creak and groan as the building settled in the chilly weather outside.

“I was hoping to do it when you were unconscious, if I'm to be honest with you,” Calhoun responded, setting the canister down. “You and Resolved have been infected—by that disgusting thing that the cleaners call  _ religion. _ It’s disgusting that you could follow a book written by  _ Iscariot  _ and still call this life we're forced to live a gift from God. _ ”  _ The priest sighed and shook his head once more. “I did try to show you the error of your ways—and that somehow, someway, your ridiculous views would cloud your thoughts. That it would cause you to become distracted from your duties to the community.”

“What the  _ hell  _ are you talking about?” Dipper demanded; Resolved was already transforming beside him. The elder vampire's jaw popped and his mouth widened as he drew his lips back into an unsettling, toothy smile that showed far too much of his gums. “I'm the only person in this whole fucking town who actually does their fucking job. Don't pull this shit on me, Calhoun. What are they giving you for this?”

“You were always so kind to me. After Manisa abandoned me,” Calhoun continued as if Dipper hadn't spoken. He was staring at the lighter in his hand, flicking it lazily. The flame licked at the edge of his thumbnail, casually toasting the edge of it. “But… Heathens are heathens, and the only way to purify them is by flame.”

“He's going to light the place on fire. We kill him, or he kills us,” Resolved hissed out, the sound coming from deep inside of him, lips unmoving as he spoke. Dipper let out an audible hiss at Resolved, who returned it in kind. “If you don't, I  _ will.  _ I don't care who he is.” There was a thud as Resolved dropped to the floor; fingers now gnarled and crowed with thick, curved nails that dragged along the wooden floor with an angry rasp.

That seemed to be the end of talking for Calhoun as well; the priest paled when he saw the elder vampire transform, something that Calhoun himself had never achieved, let alone seen. His thumb rolled frantically against the flint wheel as the now hulking form of Resolved made his way across the room. His face was now stretched and pale, fangs lengthened and shoulders hiked way up above his ears, pointed and sharp where skin was stretched too taut over bone.

“Monster,” Calhoun whispered fearfully, his lighter finally catching, flame licking upward into the air. Orange arced in the dark, shadowed lobby—Dipper's world slowed down as he darted forward, dodging the device—he didn't risk grabbing it. He would  _ never  _ risk grabbing at an open flame, reflexes be damned.

“You call me a monster,” Resolved growled out, even as flame spread on either side of him. Pools of poorly placed kerosene ignited instantly, burning with a vibrant, powerful flame. “When you and I are exactly the  _ same. _ ”

Calhoun scrambled for the door handle, and Dipper let out a broken laugh as he watched the priest.

“Should have left the door open,” Dipper told him, letting his voice become teasing and playful. He walked past the ever-growing flame; he didn't  _ fear  _ fire. He respected it. He respected what it could do to people, what it could do to  _ him,  _ if he let it get close enough. “Should have made sure we were staked, Calhoun. Should have been early.” With each word, his voice dropped lower, and  _ lower  _ until it crackled inhumanly, oddly reminiscent of the building around him. “Should have been a  _ heathen.” _

Resolved, even with his head start, was too slow. Dipper, on the other hand, was perfectly built for  _ speed. _

Calhoun had just wrapped his hand around the door handle, just about to turn it, when the stake pressed into him. It slid easily through his shirt, catching slightly before sinking through his chest, and directly through his heart. Dipper thought he might have heard the priest send up a prayer, or something similar, before he hit the ground. It didn't matter.

“No fair,” Resolved growled, jerking his malformed, twisted jaw at Dipper. “Not fair at all, Dipper. I wanted to rip his head off.” The younger vampire shook his head, wincing as Resolved's bones snapped back into place, reaffirming his human form. Nudging his head toward Dipper, he let out a soft breath over Dipper's hair, mussing it slightly. “You never fully change, Dipper.”

Dipper shrugged, stepping over Calhoun's body and opening the door. It smacked into Calhoun and he cocked an eyebrow. He kicked at the limp form, rolling it away from the entrance and directly into the flame. Resolved followed after him, slipping into the shadows once they were outside the burning building.

“Too much work. Not to mention gross,” Dipper told Resolved, reaching a hand up to grip one of his considerably thicker braids, tugging on it. “Change back. I am not going to walk through the city with some ugly ass monster following me. You'll get arrested.”

“Arrested? For what?” Resolved questioned, even as his shoulders rolled back and his fangs slid back into place with a disgusting pop. “What is a police officer going to do in the face of a creature twice their size, that can tear their police car in half with his bare hands?” Dipper let out a soft huff, then nodded.

“Form an anti-vampire militia. Kill all of us with flamethrowers,” Dipper replied, stepping out into the moonlit street. “Come on, old man.” Dipper looked down, frowning at the fresh blood added to the front of his shirt. “We've both got humans to check up on.”

Resolved chuckled, following Dipper. The moonlight spilled over him like a glass of milk that'd been knocked from a kitchen table, painting his features a pale white.

“Gideon is in no way human,” Resolved told Dipper; the tattered remains of his clothing barely covered him, hanging like loose curtains. Dipper let out a sharp whistle, then shook his head. Resolved let out a laugh, rhythmic enough that it could have been mistaken for a howl by an untrained listener.

“Did you two actually fuck?” Dipper asked, shoving his hands back in his pockets. Resolved nodded, proud of himself. “It's the belly, isn't it? That's what you like about him.”

The elder vampire's eyebrows jumped on his forehead, and the corners of his mouth curled into a grin. Dipper stuck out his tongue, making a disgusted noise at the idea. Resolved elbowed him gently, and Dipper pushed him away.

“It most  _ certainly  _ is.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My beta is Emberglows  
>    
> No song, too tired. 
> 
> Want to stay updated? Click [here](http://everyday-im-preaching.tumblr.com/) to stay in the know!


	28. Ulalume

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello friends! Or enemies. Both are welcome here! Just...don't set anything on fire. I don't own this place.
> 
> Sorry this is late this week! I've been busy, started a new job the other week, just kind of. Life in general. Who knew that having a social life would affect my schedule this way? Plus, I've been working on other stuff! Like, other fics, original novels, art....
> 
> So as always, if you like this chapter, please leave a comment below! I'd love to hear from you!

_The hair on their head was white like wool,_

_as white as snow,_

_and their eyes were like blazing fire._

_-Revelations 1:14_

“ _Dipper._ ” Bill's voice was a shaky sob as the vampire entered the kitchen; the human nearly bowled Dipper over in his rush to hug him, locking his arms around the immortal and pressing his face into Dipper's collarbone. “I'm so glad you're _okay._ ” He rubbed his wet face against Dipper's jacket, his hiccups enough to send tremors through his body. Dipper brought his arms around Bill, rubbing awkward, hopefully soothing circles into the human's shoulders. There was a soft snort from Resolved, and when Dipper turned his head to look at him, the elder vampire mouthed the word “ _cute”_ in his direction. Dipper briefly freed a hand to flip him off, before turning to Gideon.

A dark, swollen bruise curled around Gideon's left eye, tucking beneath his eyebrow and kissing the side of his nose. He looked like he'd been elbowed in the face. Gideon noticed his stare and thrust his bottom lip out into a pout; the morgue worker propped his hands on his hips defensively, digging his well-manicured nails into the leather of his belt.

“You pay this no mind,” Gideon told him, voice stern. “I've gotten worse tumbling around in bed.” Resolved chuckled and Dipper watched in satisfaction as the elder vampire slunk an arm around Gideon's waist. The pathologist all but ignored him, keeping his eyes trained forward.

Bill was babbling something into his ear and pressing wobbling kisses down his jaw, and Dipper stroked his fingers down Bill's spine.

“What happened?” Dipper asked, letting his hand wander up to twine into Bill's hair. Resolved was preening Gideon's mussed hair and quietly braiding it. Gideon frowned, eyes drifting to the kitchen windows. They roved over them, trying to see what might be past the darkness accompanied the night.

“I could ask y'all the same question,” Gideon muttered quietly. “After all, y'all both walked in here covered in blood, obviously staked and...” He turned his head, looking up at Resolved. “...Lord only knows what happened to your clothes.”

“He outgrew them,” Dipper said blandly, steering Bill toward a kitchen chair. Bill reluctantly let go and allowed himself to be sat down. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to Bill's earlobe. “I'm going to make you some tea, okay?” Bill nodded and folded his hands on the kitchen table, fiddling with the rings on his fingers. Gideon and Resolved soon joined him, taking seats around the table; Bill was curiously glancing at Resolved, letting his eyes flick between him and Gideon.

Dipper shifted the tea in his cabinet around before he found the tin of cinnamon tea; he tugged it out, brow furrowing when the scent washed over him. Hunger gnawed at him instantly, the scent that escaped the tin reminded him so _much_ of Bill, his slaked thirst was reawakened, and he banged his fist against the bottom of the cabinet. This was _not_ how this was supposed to work. He was supposed to be content, not crave _more._

“Are you okay?” It was Resolved—his voice brushed against his ear quietly; both humans that sat at the table were looking over at the two immortals. Eyes asked questions that neither Bill nor Gideon dared to voice. “Calm down, Dipper. It's Bill, isn't it? You've fed from him.”

Dipper nodded slowly.

“And you feel hungry. You're nervous. You don't want to feed from him, not now.” Resolved's voice was so _soothing._ It lapped along the curves of his ears and drowned out the world around him—it was no wonder that Resolved was easily the best hunter amongst them. It wasn't just his strength—but his subtle way of ensnaring someone when he got close, the way his southern accent drew out in a long, soothing drawl. It was hypnosis at its finest.

Dipper was so _jealous of it_. Resolved was boxing him in entirely from the table's view now.

“The stress of the evening is just getting to you. You're not actually hungry. And it's okay to know that, isn't it?” Resolved told him gently, reaching past him to nudge the tea toward his hand. Dipper gripped it carefully, a slow, near-inaudible agreement escaping him. “I'll get the kettle.”

When Resolved pulled away, Dipper felt the curious eyes both turn jealous, and the air bristled softly around the two of them. Dipper ignored it, pulling out tea bags and cups as if nothing had transpired. Bill slowly rose his hand, looking between the other people in the room.

“I am _way_ more confused than I was ten minutes ago. What just happened?” Bill questioned. “Am I missing something?”

Gideon snorted, scowled, and crossed his arms over his chest “It's no use asking, sug. Trying to get Dipper to reveal anything is about as useless as asking a cold pistol for a confession. And Resolved ain't got the mind for spilling secrets.”

“Vampire stuff,” Resolved announced unhelpfully, only further bolstering Gideon's point. Dipper nodded in agreement, settling the tea bags to steep. He turned toward the kitchen table, looking at the two men seated there.

“What happened?” he asked again; his composure was back, sliding over him and settling like a well-fitting glove. Dipper focused his eyes on Gideon. “You remember house rules, right?”

Gideon rolled his eyes.

“Yes, I remember house rules. Ain't nobody can get in unless you invite 'em in.” Gideon flapped a hand at Dipper. “It was the only thing that kept me from turning tail and running, with your little blonde boyfriend in tow. This creaky old house is the safest place in town.” Nothing the look of confusion on Bill's face, Gideon let out a sigh. “You know that old legend? The one about vampires bein' unable to come in if they aren't invited?”

“Yeah, I mean, who _hasn't._ ”

“Well, it doesn't work like that. It's the other way around, and it's very hard to accomplish.” It was Dipper who answered, not Gideon. “No one is allowed to step foot into a vampire's lair unless invited. But in order to invoke this rule, they've got to own it. To have built it.” Dipper pet the counter in front of him affectionately. Bill stared at him, wide-eyed. “Which means that I haven't been robbed in over a hundred years. _Despite_ the decline in the neighbourhood.”

“You built this house? Yourself?” Bill asked, voice muted by shock. Dipper crossed his arms over his chest and nodded, letting himself feel the pride that came along with the declaration. “Wow. You just keep on coming up with ways to make me feel inadequate.”

“Human. Amnesia. Shorter lifespan,” Dipper told him, turning back to the tea. “ _For now,_ ” he mumbled under his breath, low enough that Bill couldn't hear. Resolved looked at him out of the corner of his eye, cocking his eyebrow. “You've no reason to feel inadequate.”

“Thanks for the confidence,” Bill murmured, eyes locked on Dipper as the vampire removed the tea bags and put them aside. Gathering the mugs, he bustled back over to the table and set the cups in front of their respective owners.

“Thank you, hun,” Gideon told him, cupping the warm mug between his palms, and shuddering at the heat it gave off. “Now, after you left to go check up on the situation at the library, this old voice came outside. Started sayin' things about the two of y'all being dead—now, I wouldn't normally pay things like that no mind, but you know how shook up I was when I arrived.” Gideon looked down at his tea and took a steadying breath.

“They sounded like ghosts,” Bill tacked on; he'd slumped over in his chair, sipping carefully at his drink. “They said such horrible things. They… they said that there was no use hiding—that I should come out, give myself up. That you were dead and that nobody was protecting me anymore.”

“You? Specifically _you?”_ Dipper asked, furrowing his brow. Bill nodded, running a hand through his hair. “Why do they want you?” He murmured gently; he placed his hands on the table, staring at the space between them.

“That's what I was wonderin',” Gideon muttered, turning his face up to look at Bill. Bill opened his mouth to reply, but Dipper shook his head.

“It doesn't matter. Whoever they were, it doesn't _matter._ What matters is that they aren't getting you.” Dipper was beside him within seconds, laying a hand on his shoulder. “I don't share, and I sure as hell don't negotiate with bullies.”

Blood filled Bill's cheeks, and he was staring at the table again, lips curling as he bit at them shyly.

“Who the fuck did you piss off?” Dipper asked, squeezing his shoulder to get his attention. “The same people who are trying to kill you are involved with vampires.” Bill looked at him, shrugging and letting the corners of his mouth dip down into a puzzled, exaggerated frown. “Angry vampires. That were going to kill me.”

“You don't have to guilt trip me,” Bill grumbled. Dipper shook his head, letting his hand wander. He dragged his fingers across Bill's shoulders, scratching them lightly. The human turned his head, looking at the bloodied spot on the front of his shirt. “Did you get staked?” It was Dipper's turn to shrug.

“A little bit. But Jolene came along and took the stake out.” Dipper rubbed at the hole in his shirt, frowning. Bill mirrored his expression.

“Jolene? Jolene who? Stride?” Bill's questions instantly commanded the attention of the room. Bill startled back at the sudden attention, eyes widening. “What?”

“You know her?”

“I mean, I've never met her,” Bill admitted, rubbing his shoulder. “But she's the one who paid for my hospital bill, and my court case. The man who died in the crash? His parents tried to sue me for wrongful death or manslaughter or _something_ —but Jolene paid for an _excellent_ lawyer. Won the case for me. Sent me some flowers once or twice too.”

Dipper froze where he stood, turning his head toward Gideon. Gideon put his hands in the air, turning his face away from the vampire.

“Look, the other side is never playin' with a full hand. You've got to work with what they give you.” He got up from his seat in a huff and away from Resolved's fingers—they had taken to braiding his hair again, and Resolved all but whined at the loss. Gideon threw his hands in the air and shook his head. “Stupid vampires, thinkin' that you just get whatever y'all want, just cause ya' ask.”

Dipper was about to reply when he heard a low hiss from outside—a voice, floating in through the window and settling heavily in the air.

“ _This is twice now that you've escaped death,_ ” it teased; the voice in of itself was quite androgynous, pitching neither high nor low, and only slightly muffled by the glass. Dipper swirled around, locating the source of the voice with ease and baring his fangs. The window above the sink. Bill let out a tiny whimper, jaw and fists clenching at the same time. “ _How long do you think you'll last? Are you really ready to risk your immortality for some flesh-bag? You barely know him.”_

“Why don't you go on and fuck yourself?” Gideon advised, standing right in front of the sink. He was staring bravely at the darkness beyond it, as if challenging the night itself. “You must be as drunk as Cooter Brown if you think you're sticking one foot in this house.”

“ _You killed a man who trusted you, tonight,”_ the voice began, only to be cut off.

“Oh, shut your fucking mouth,” Dipper growled out. “And get the fuck off my lawn, before I come out there and make you.” There was a soft cackling outside, and Dipper let out a low snarl. Bill wrapped a hand around Dipper's arm, whimpering.

“ _I'd like to see you try,_ ” the voice teased. Dipper let out another snarl, and Resolved echoed it. Dipper stormed over to the nearest window and looked out it, trying to catch someone prowling around the house.

Dipper didn't even bother flinching when a hand slammed against the glass, hard enough to send hairline fractures dancing up the window. Bill, however, jerked in his chair and nearly fell out of it. In the kitchen, Gideon knocked back into Resolved with an absolutely _filthy_ sentence that was loaded with swears. A pale cheek pressed against the glass, and the side of a razor sharp grin greeted Dipper. Fangs scraped the glass as the offended moved, dragging their canine along the thin glass with little concern. A high-pitched squeal filled the room.

“Get off my lawn,” Dipper repeated through gritted teeth. Another laugh, and Dipper watched as the person's jaw opened and made a dull cracking sound through the window.

“ _I'm watching you, Dipper,”_ they teased, eye searching the room before landing on Bill. “ _And I'm watching_ you, _too.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!
> 
> Song for this chapter:  
> In My Head by Galantis 
> 
> My beta is EmberGlows :3
> 
> Want to stay updated? Click [here](http://everyday-im-preaching.tumblr.com/) to stay in the know!


	29. Surtr

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys!  
> If you liked this chapter, please leave a comment below o3o I really, really appreciate them!

_"And I saw an angel coming down out of heaven,_

_Having the key to the abyss and holding in her hands a giant chain."_

_-Revelations 20:1_

 

Dipper closed the curtains without further prompting, letting the sun-faded cloth cover the oddly squished and almost inhuman face that pressed against the glass. The creature on the other side tapped out a playful rhythm.

“ _What happened to coming out here?”_ the voice teased. Dipper gritted his teeth as a high pitched shriek slid through the living room and claws dragged across the window. “ _I like you, you know. So I'm going to be generous. I'm going to give you three days._ ”

“Gideon, Resolved—will you close the kitchen curtain?” Dipper asked tersely. Resolved and Gideon stared at him blankly for a moment, and only Gideon scrambled to when Dipper growled low. The sound came from the back of his throat, pitched forward as if it had missed a step going down. Gideon grumbled slightly as he pulled the curtains, making sure that none of the glass behind them could be seen.

“ _Three days to give him up—leave him nice and wrapped up on the steps of St.Mary's. That should give you enough time to say goodbye—maybe you can get a final fuck in?”_ An uneven, eerie cackling rolled through the room, and Dipper was vaguely aware of Bill whimpering and drawing his legs up to his chest, balancing his heels on the edge of the seat. “ _If you don't, then I will personally rip out every, single, fang that you have inside that useless little head of yours.”_ There was another slam against the window, and Dipper bristled. Resolved mimicked the action, top lip rising in a snarl.

Bill let out a heart-wrenching _sob,_ burying his face in his shaking legs. Dipper's fingers curled into fists, and he stepped backward, keeping his eyes fixed to the covered window.

“ _We're going to get what's in your pretty little head, Bill. Don't think for a second that you're safe. Have a wonderful evening—see you in seventy-two hours.”_ The voice cut off, and the creature's uncertain presence was gone quicker than Dipper could blink. The space it had left seemed to be hollow now, as if a piece of the world was missing on the other side of Dipper's window.

Dipper was at Bill's side in seconds—the human had started babbling about something or another; tears were flowing freely down his face, and he smothered them with his pant legs.

“I… I don't want you to get hurt because of me.” Bill's shoulders jerked up and down with his violent sobs. “I'll go, I'll do whatever they want—”

Dipper slammed a hand on the table; Bill startled. The noise had him yanking his head up like the perfected moves of a puppet, staring at Dipper with wet, watering eyes.

“Like _hell_ you are. You aren't going any-fucking-where. Do you hear me, Bill?” Dipper shot a hand out, intending to grab Bill's jaw—instead, his fingers gently brushed the human's bangs from his face. “You aren't going anywhere. Except to bed.” The vampire leaned forward, brushing his lips against Bill's forehead. Bill let out a wobbly hiccup, tilting his head up to receive a litany of kisses from Dipper.

“I can't sleep,” Bill breathed as his tears slowed; Dipper wiped away the few that managed to squeeze free. The quiet rage that had been stirring in his belly turned to ice; a different kind of anger. A _vengeful_ kind. Dipper hushed him and kissed the corner of his mouth, slipping a leg over the human's lap and straddling him.

“You can. You need to. You need to eat, too.” Dipper looked at Gideon. The pathologist had this _look_ on his face. Like something was _cute._ A glare didn't seem to knock it from Gideon's face, so Dipper turned back to Bill. “Do you think you can eat?”

Bill shook his head, wrapping his arms around Dipper and rubbing his face into the vampire's ruined shirt.

“Please?” Dipper asked, letting his lips whisper across Bill's forehead.

“You sure like cuddling up to him, don't you?”

Dipper shot Gideon another glare, eyes narrowing. Bill hid his face in Dipper's shoulder, as if he'd forgotten they had an audience.

Gideon flapped a hand at him, unperturbed. “I'll cook him up something, don't you worry, darlin'.” Gideon told Dipper, walking over to the fridge. “It'll smell too good for him to turn down.” The door opened with more force than necessary, and was followed up by a low, angry swear. “That ol' vampire thinkin' it can just throw around threats? Not just on your life, but mine?” The fridge door slammed, and Dipper looked up at the pathologist; his freckles were like tiny islands in the sea of red that had painted its way across his cheeks—the blush wasn't from embarrassment, but from _fury._

Gideon thrust his head upward, looking at Bill. His eyes softened, as did his voice.

“Don't you worry, hun, l'il ol' Gideon's gonna give that crazy ol' coward of a vamp a wallopin' that they won't forget.”

“We don't know if they're a vampire,” Dipper argued instantly, preening Bill's hair much like Resolved had earlier with Gideon. Gideon propped his hands on his hips, unconsciously thrusting his bottom lip out. Dipper shook his head. “We don't.”

“Considering that the only thing that's been trying to kill us is vampires, I feel like it's a pretty good assumption,” Gideon told him, keeping a grim expression the entire time. “But it honest to God doesn't matter—I ain't gonna let nothing touch you nor him. I respect ya too much for that, honey. Come vampire, werewolf, or God himself.”

Resolved snorted and shook his head at Gideon's fire, crossing his arms over his chest. A troubled look quickly replaced his amused one, and he levelled his gaze at Dipper. “Dipper, we have to—”

Dipper shook his head, cutting him off in an instant.

“—I know. We've got to do something.”

 

It took a full plate of warm, distinctly Creole-style seafood that Dipper _knew_ he hadn't bought the ingredients to, and plenty of gentle, reassuring kisses and words before Bill could finally relax. They blended together into a soft lullaby that had Bill snuggling up on the couch, an afghan tossed over him. Despite Dipper's attempt to get Bill to sleep upstairs, the human had refused to leave the living room—well, the area that Dipper was in, anyway.

Sitting around the kitchen table, fingers tightly hugging each other, Dipper was _panicking._ If he had a heart, it would have been pounding its way out of his rib cage and straight through his chest. Instead, he was just _cold._ He couldn't protect Bill—it was the easiest fucking thing in the world to protect a human, and Dipper couldn't even do that much. _Fuck._ He'd promised Bill he would protect him. He couldn't just _fail._

“Dipper.” Gideon's voice broke through his fear-induced haze. “We ain't got a lot of time for spacing off, doll, I'm sorry. I know you're stressed and all, but we've got to figure out what to do about this mess that boyfriend of yours has us all in.”

“Don't you _dare_ blame Bill for this.” The words were hissed out before Dipper could stop them; Gideon held up his hands in defence. “You saw how he acted when he heard we might get hurt because of him. He's put up with enough crap, and he doesn't need you talking shit on him, too.” Dipper had half-risen out of his chair, placing his hands on the table. His eyes flashed in unspent rage, and his claws dug into wood, splintering and cracking it.

“Dipper, calm down,” Resolved told the younger vampire.

“I didn't mean nothing about it, sug, you know that. Just the way I talk,” Gideon said, sounding genuinely apologetic. “I know he didn't want this no more than the rest of us.”

Dipper groaned and yanked his claws free from the table; he carded one hand through his hair, shaking his head. “I… I know I haven't known him long. But he's...” Gideon hushed him gently, taking the vampire's hand in his.

“No need to say anything, hun. You want to protect him and that's all that matters. You can get the rest worked out later. Sit on down, and let's think this out.” At Gideon's words, Dipper slowly sat, embarrassed over his outburst.

“Yes, preferably when we don't have a deadline,” Resolved stated. Dipper nodded, smoothing his palms over the ruined tabletop. He would have to throw a tablecloth over it—thinking back, he probably had one tucked in the spare room somewhere. “And currently we are at a _massive_ disadvantage. We have no information on the enemy, and based on our early performance, not enough manpower.”

“Not to mention we're still wounded. We don't have enough blood in us to be a proper threat,” Dipper grumbled, rubbing at his collarbone. Resolved nodded; his brows furrowed as he pondered the puzzle in front of them.

“We could leave town,” Gideon suggested, propping his chin on his hand. “Won't stop 'em from trying to follow us as soon as we tried. Hell, nothing but that monster's word is stopping them from ambushing us as soon as we try and leave the house. Can't take that as the truth.”

“We can't take _anything_ for the truth. We don't even know if what they said is true,” Resolved argued. Dipper shook his head at both of them.

“Whoever that is has tried to kill Bill twice, at least in the time I've known him, and tried to kill Resolved and I tonight.” Dipper checked his watch. “Last night. That makes me inclined to believe that they're serious with their threat.”

Resolved dropped his head at this, staring at his hands.

“We don't know who they've recruited,” Resolved muttered, fiddling with his gold-heavy fingers. “We don't know who we can trust.” He slid off a particularly rough ring, staring at the dull gem that was haphazardly set in it. “Anyone could have turned against us—after all, Manisa did. And a good portion of the vampires in town would follow her before either of us.”

“Fuck.” Dipper placed his head in his hands. His mind was screaming at him—there was an obvious answer to this question. Something easy to do—something that could solve all of his problems with the single sweep of a hand. “I know someone who can help us.”

Dipper had muttered the words, but both Gideon and Resolved snapped their heads to look at him in an instant.

“And who's that?” The trepidation in Gideon's voice far outweighed any that Dipper might have had, chilling the table and getting Dipper to swallow his pride. Dipper flicked his eyes upward to meet Gideon's, and he shook his head. “Darling, no. You don't gotta do this to yourself. There's something else we can do.”

Dipper began to explain, “But there's nothing as foolproof as this—”

“—Was it me, or did that guy have, like… A French accent?” _Jolene._ Her voice interrupted Dipper from the stairs, and she immediately gained the attention of the entire room. She didn't seem to notice the incredulous stares of the men in the room, letting her gaze settle somewhere amongst the wallpaper. She was wearing a scruffy, dark hoodie that seemed to be burned in several places around the wrists. “Like, not just a little French. A lot French. French bread French.”

“What are you doing in my _house_?” Dipper had to grit his teeth to keep his voice down, not wanting to wake Bill; the human rolled over on the couch, nuzzling the cushions and sighing. “How'd you get in? You shouldn't have been able to get in.”

Jolene turned her gaze toward him, blinking and cocking her head to the side.

“So… No. Nobody else heard the accent. Mm.” Jolene clicked her tongue, then nodded. Turning her gaze to Resolved, she nodded again. “I'm glad you aren't dead. Sort of. I'm actually kind of neutral about it. I don't know you.” She stuffed her hands in her pockets, shuffling across the room to Dipper. “You, I kind of know. And you're involved with Bill.”

“You didn't answer my question. What are you doing in my house?” Dipper demanded. This night kept getting weirder, and he didn't like it. Jolene stared at him for a second.

“Common enemy, I guess? What were you going to say before I interrupted you?” Jolene asked, taking a seat at the table and making herself comfortable. Dipper watched in amazement as she did so. She was _completely unfazed._ Like the world couldn't touch her. “We don't all have an eternity, and the way it's looking, you only have three days,” Jolene reminded lightly, drawing her hair over her shoulder and running burnt fingertips through the long, red strands.

“I don't feel comfortable with you just interrupting our conversation,” Resolved told her, narrowing his eyes. Jolene shrugged.

“I never asked you to be, did I?”

“Look, Resolved, she is, for some fucking reason, on our side—” Dipper started.

“—With a great mistake comes a great responsibility,” Jolene chimed in, braiding her hair slowly. They all waited with bated breath for her to say more, but she remained silent. Gideon was eyeing her with a healthy amount of suspicion, but not nearly as much as Resolved.

“That didn't make any more sense than anything else you've said,” Gideon pointed out bluntly. Jolene didn't bother to answer him, turning her eyes up to Dipper. The vampire looked away in an instant.

“I… I'm going to call Mabel,” he announced awkwardly; all of the drama that his answer would have held disappeared with Jolene's arrival. Gideon and Resolved cringed away from Dipper's answer, but Jolene nodded. “She's the only one who can fix this.”

“Without fucking it up further?” Jolene asked, picking a bit of fluff from her hair.

Dipper thought for a moment, then shook his head. “That, I can't say. But I'm willing to put up with anything, as long as Bill's okay in the end.”

Jolene sucked her bottom lip into her mouth, chewing on it for a second. Resolved and Gideon looked like they wanted to protest the idea, but didn't. They didn't know Mabel first-hand, they didn't know what she could _do._

“Well, I better not stick around then, huh?” Jolene muttered. She shifted in her chair, looking ill. “Bill doesn't have what they want. He used to, but he doesn't anymore.” Jolene stood, looking at the sleeping human. There was no melancholy or sadness in her voice. “And that's why Bill can't see me or talk to me—amnesia is a touchy thing. If he were to meet me, then he might remember, well, everything.”

“He deserves to remember,” Dipper told her, studying her blank face. “Those are his memories.”

Jolene shook her head at the vampire, much like a parent explaining something incredibly difficult to a child.

“No. He deserves to forget. To be happy,” Jolene told Dipper, creeping toward Bill and peeking at the human's sleeping face. A small smile unfurled on her lips, and crows feet folded around her eyes, the wrinkles becoming prominent. “Thanks for protecting him, Dipper Pines. Sorry about crashing your party and all. I didn't mean to. I just wanted to know that you were going to take care of him and all.”

“You think I wouldn't? After everything that's happened?” Dipper asked, huffing out his question. Jolene shrugged, stuffing her hands back in her pockets.

“Vampires are shady and untrustworthy.” Jolene met Dipper's eyes, and he swallowed. “I don't like them.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!  
> My beta is emberglows. 
> 
> Song for this chapter:  
> Crucified by Army of Lovers
> 
> Want to stay updated? Click [here](http://everyday-im-preaching.tumblr.com/) to stay in the know!


	30. Sometimes It Sounds Like A Busy Signal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there guys, if you liked this chapter, please leave a comment below! I'd really appreciate it.  
> I also got a haircut! Your (now) red-headed clergywoman has short hair once again! And thank god for that.

_ “So watch yourselves.  _

_ If your brother or sister sins against you, rebuke them; and if they repent, forgive them.   _

_ Even if they sin against you seven times in a day and seven times come back to you saying ‘I repent,’ you must forgive them.” _

_ -Luke 17:3-4 _  
  
  


Dialing Mabel's phone number was the hardest thing that Dipper had ever done. A small part of him hoped that she wouldn't pick up—but common sense told him that she  _ had  _ to. For Bill. Bill hadn't done anything to deserve the horror terror that his life had become.

Dipper sighed, pressing Gideon's cellphone tightly to his ear as he stood alone in his junk room. His fingers were affectionately petting the yarn hair of a raggedy, stained doll next to him; he couldn't remember where he'd found it, or who the old owner had been—but it'd been years since it'd been tucked away on its little stool, its embroidered mouth ever-smiling.

“Hello?” As soon as Mabel's voice rolled through the speaker, Dipper's hackles raised in defence. His mind screamed that this was a terrible idea—what was he  _ thinking?  _ Calling Mabel was the worst possible idea.

Dipper clenched his fangs, then his fist, and then he spoke. “Hey, Mabel. Been awhile, huh?”

The other end of the line was filled with silence for a hairbreadth of a second, and then there was a cacophony of noise the crackled through the phone and directly into his ear. He yanked the phone away.

“—Brother, is that you? Tad, it's Dipper, I've got to—” A brief fumbling. “—Dipper, please don't hang up, give me just a moment. It's been so long—where are you? Where have you been? I've missed you so much. I'm so sorry about the last time we met. I didn't mean to be so pushy. I never intended to drive you away, I… I… I...” Mabel's words hitched in her throat, stuttering out. “...I just wanted my brother back. I wanted  _ you  _ back.”

Dipper flinched.

“Mabel, calm down. I'm not going to hang up,” Dipper told her as he closed his eyes. This was going to be hard. “I've been trying to work on the whole forgiving thing. And… Well, this is going to sound like I'm abusing your good will—but I need your help. Badly.”

There was another choked sound from the other side of the sound, followed by a bit of sniffling. Dipper rolled his eyes, letting his fingers relax and then rest on his hip.

“With what?” Mabel asked after a moment, her voice thick.

“Why are you crying?” Dipper asked, trying to not sound irritated. “Mabel, it's okay.”

“It's… It's just that I am so grateful that you decided to put that old grudge of yours behind you—that you trusted me enough to call me for help—to be friends again—”

Dipper cut her off before she could finish whatever inane sentence she was spouting. “—Don't push your luck. We aren't friends. I said I was working on the whole forgiveness bit, not that I forgave you. And it's a well-placed grudge.”

“It's been two hundred years.”

“Yeah, two hundred years and you haven't regretted what you've done  _ once.  _ You can't just decide my life for me, Mabel. You know that you should have given me the  _ choice,” _ Dipper hissed out, trying to keep the majority of his rage under control. He couldn't afford for her to say no.

There was an irritated huff from the other end of the line, and then a sigh. “I'm not going to lie and say I have regrets—because I don't. I couldn't bear the thought of living without you alongside me. It would have been like losing a part of me. You can understand that, right? I would have simply died if I couldn't have brought you with me.”

Dipper shook his head, running his free hand through his hair.

“How… How about we talk about things in person?” Dipper suggested, squeezing his eyes shut. God, he didn't want to see Mabel. Ever.  _ Think about Bill,  _ his mind reminded.

“In person?” Mabel questioned; there was a warmth—a level of emotional concern in her voice that had him wanting to throw the phone across the room. “Brother, what… What have you gotten into? Do I need to call on the council? Bring an army?” In the background, Dipper heard a dulcet, rambling string of questions from Tad. Mabel seemed to be ignoring him.

“It's not really me that I'm worried about,” Dipper muttered, toeing the floor. There was no reason to lie to Mabel, not really. She'd find out about Bill one way or another. “It's about… Someone I'd like you to meet. My, uh… Partner.” It came out awkward, but the shrill, almost childlike squeal from Mabel had Dipper convinced that she'd agree to come down.

“Is she another vampire?” Mabel asked. “Tad? Tad, darling, pack the bags. Dipper wants us to come meet his girlfriend. And some other nonsense, but that can be dealt with.”

“Boyfriend,” Dipper corrected.

“Ah, yes. I thought you would have outgrown your attraction toward men by now,” Mabel teased. “But it's not as if I've any right to judge. I'm sure he's a lovely young man.” Dipper heard something scratch against the speaker of the phone, no doubt for Mabel placing her hand over the speaker to say something to Tad about Dipper's 'relationship'. “So your… Partner has gotten himself into trouble?”

“A lot of trouble. At some point, he seems to have had some information that a small coven of vampires desire—and they're willing to kill me and anybody else that gets in their way in order to get it.”

“Sounds like someone that you shouldn't have been playing with in the first place,” Mabel suggested.

“I didn't ask you for your opinion on whether or not I should have picked him. I just asked you for your help in protecting him,” Dipper snapped instantly. “You don't choose who you want to be with sometimes, Mabel. Beating hearts or no, we can still l—” Dipper swallowed. “—We can still love other people.”

“I didn't mean to offend,” Mabel muttered innocently. “I adore you, brother, and I will support and assist you when need be—despite this incredibly indecent cold shoulder you've been giving me. But you have to take in consideration the consequences of dating such a dangerous man.” Another huff. “What happened to that young woman you were dating? Mary?”

“It was Marie. And she's dead,” Dipper told her, keeping his voice blunt and uninterested. His gaze landed on the Bible, still nestled on the brown shawl. His lips tilted down into a frown, noticing one of the corners of the cloth was flipped up—if Jolene hadn't just been in his home, he would have blamed Bill for the disturbance.

Mabel clicked her tongue in distaste. “How on earth did that happen? You two were so happy together—you were going to change her. That's what you told me, that's why I wasn't allowed to feed from her. You were so honorary about it.”

Dipper didn't say anything, staring at his shrine and steadying himself against the wall.

“Wait, brother… Did… Oh, brother, I'm sorry.”

“Some of us can't sire, Mabel. You know that,” Dipper told her quietly, slowly taking a seat on the floor, letting his legs stretch out in front of him.

“Was… Was she your first?” Mabel asked, voice just as quiet. Dipper shook his head, even though she couldn't see it.

“Third. Thought it was a fluke the first time.” Dipper brought a knee up and pressed his forehead against it. “I can't lose him like I lost Marie. Or David. Or...” The immortal was blinking away tears now. “...Or Aine.” He cleared his throat.

“I hadn't realised. You never said anything about… Well.” Mabel cleared her throat as well. “I suppose that means I haven't a choice. You deserve no more heartbreak than you've already suffered. Where are you roundabouts? There's no time to waste.”

Dipper rattled off his address, managing to keep the thick from his voice; Mabel brought no attention to it, if she heard it at all. Mabel kept spouting sympathies in regard to Marie and the other, failed siring—but Dipper blew them off, telling her that the present was far more important than the past—he had to protect what he had, not reminisce about what he'd lost.

It took a good twenty minutes to get her off the phone, and another ten before Dipper could get himself up off the floor. He had to go tell the others that Mabel was on her way, and warn them about… Well. About Mabel. Everything about her was a walking trigger warning.

Dipper reached a hand out to open the door, only to be surprised by someone on the other side pushing it open.

“Dipper?”

_ Bill. _

“Sorry if I'm intruding, I… I just woke up and asked where you were and… They said in here. And boy, did I think it was weird that you were hiding in the closet to make a phone call.” Bill was babbling, pushing the door further open. Dipper took a step back, letting the human enter the room.

“I didn't want to wake you up with all my chatting,” Dipper reasoned; Bill's hand searched for a light switch, flicking it on when he found it. He paused, looking around the room.

“This isn't a closet.”

“Nope. Definitely not a closet,” Dipper agreed. Seeing Bill had him on the brink of an emotional breakdown once again. “What’s up? Feeling okay?” The vampire stepped closer, smoothing out the wrinkles in Bill's shirt.

“Just kind of anxious. Scared. Normal stuff.” Bill was craning his head around, trying to take in the sheer amount of junk that Dipper had nabbed from his victims. “What is all this?”

Dipper crossed his arms over his chest and cocked an eyebrow. He considered lying for a moment, then shrugged. “Trophies. From all the people I've killed.”

Bill froze where he stood, looking at Dipper out of the corner of his eyes.

“You… You keep trophies?”

“Yeah. I like stuff.” Dipper opened a jewelry box near him and messed around with the carefully sorted necklaces inside. “If you see anything you like, I guess you could have it. I mean, I like everything in here, but most of it is heat of the moment stuff. Like the impulse rack at a grocery store.” After a moment of searching, he pulled out a thin, golden necklace that had a tiny, acrylic eye pendant dangling from it. He held it out to Bill. “Here, this suits you.”

The human considered it for a second. “That was on a dead person.”

“You've fucked a dead person,” Dipper told him blandly.

“Well, you're a kind of an alive-dead person. Half-and-half,” Bill argued. He reached for the necklace, despite his complaints. Dipper rolled his eyes, watching as Bill's face lit up when he grasped the gold chain in his fingers. “Is it real gold?”

“I'm a vampire, not a jeweler. I just thought it was pretty when I saw it.” Dipper continued to watch as Bill looped it around his neck with an absurd amount of glee. “Do you like gold?”

“I do,” Bill replied eagerly, fiddling with the metal and watching at it as it turned and glinted in the dim light. He looked up at Dipper, blushing when he realised that the vampire was staring at him. “Uh, thank you. For this. Sorry for interrupting again. I didn't mean to bother you.”

“You aren't. I was about to come out and tell everyone that Mabel was on her way.”

Bill's eyes widened. “But… You don't like her. I don't think this is really the time to be making peace.” The human paused, drawing his bottom lip into his mouth for a brief moment. “Or maybe it's the best time.”

“I don't like her, you're right.” Dipper cupped Bill's face, running his thumb along the rounded curve of the human's cheek and smiling. “But I like you, and some two hundred year old family feud isn't going to ruin my chance of being happy with you. Understand?”

Bill nodded, the blush on his cheeks burning brighter as he looked away.

“Good.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there!
> 
> My beta is emberglows <3
> 
> Song for this chapter:  
> Moondust by Jaymes Young
> 
> Want to stay updated? Click [here](http://everyday-im-preaching.tumblr.com/) to stay in the know!


	31. Is This Too Emotional?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, here's a nice little chapter! Sorry it took so long to get to you. There's a good reason!  
> My beta was on vacation! But never fear, the chapters here now ouo so enjoy!
> 
> If you've got the time, I'd love to hear from you below in the comments!

_Those who trust in themselves are fools, but those who walk in wisdom are kept safe._

_Proverbs 28:26_

 

Dipper walked back into the living room and made a half-disgusted scoff; Resolved had his arms wrapped around Gideon and was kissing playfully at the pathologists neck. At the noise, Gideon gleefully flipped Dipper off, turning his head up to kiss at Resolved’s chin. When Bill attempted to look over Dipper’s shoulder, Dipper put a hand over the human’s face.

“Avert your eyes. This isn’t for kids to see,” Dipper teased.

Bill batted his hand away and pushed past him, expression souring. Dipper sighed and followed the human; once within range, he grabbed at Bill’s hand and dragged him over.

“I’m sorry,” Dipper told Bill, keeping his grip light on the human’s wrist. Bill was pouting, his bottom lip unintentionally thrust out and eyes turned away. “I don’t think you’re a kid. You know that.”

When Bill didn’t say anything, Dipper pushed up on the balls of his feet to kiss at the corner of Bill’s mouth—that broke Bill’s concentration, and he turned to accept the next kiss. Dipper smiled against the human’s mouth, then pulled away.

“And here I was, about to apologise for letting him toddle off into there,” Gideon told Dipper, crossing his arms over his chest. Resolved took a seat next to him, eyes wide and innocent as Dipper stared at them. “You don’t seem bothered at all.”

“He’s hard to be mad at,” Dipper agreed with a shrug of his shoulders. “He’s cute or whatever.” He looked pointedly at Gideon. “And you weren’t thinking about anything, apologising or otherwise. Don’t lie to me.”

“I ain’t never lied a day in my life,” Gideon argued.

“You aren’t anything but a liar, Gideon Gleeful.” Noticing Bill was hovering beside him, Dipper pinched his arm; Bill yelped and looked at Dipper, offended. “Go sit down.”

“Do you really think I’m cute?” Bill asked as he made his way to the nearest chair and straddled it. “Cute enough that you can’t be mad at me?”

“For now, yes. Try anything stupid, and it’s going to turn into a _no_ real fast,” Dipper told him, placing a hand on the end of the table. “But yeah, you’re cute. Next item on the agenda: Mabel.  I called her, and she’s on her way. She’ll probably be here tomorrow afternoon, tomorrow evening if she’s feeling honorary.”

“This woman—you said she sired you, correct?” Resolved asked, beginning to fiddle with the saltshaker. “And she’s also your sister. I’m afraid that’s where my knowledge ends, Dipper. Can you tell me more? I imagine you have a bit to share with us about her. At least, I hope so.”

Dipper stared at the table for a moment, his brows drawing tight over his eyes. He had many things he could say about his sister, and it was hard to discern what was important and what was related to his own feelings toward her.

“I suppose… Yeah, I should,” Dipper muttered aloud; he ran a hand through his hair and let out a tired sigh. Reaching over, he tugged a chair toward him. “The first thing you have to know is that she’s insanely powerful, for as young as she is.”

“What do you mean by powerful?” Bill asked, cocking his head to the side as Dipper sat down. “Like, physically, or does she have an army, or…” Bill let his question trail off, hanging in the air like tiny, bright paper lanterns. Dipper let out a soft huff and twined his fingers together.

The younger vampire flicked his eyes up at Resolved. “ _Her_ sire was sired by a _Carbone_.”

Resolved all but jumped from his seat, knocking the saltshaker over and sending tiny crystals across the placemat in front of him. The look in his eye had Dipper all but cringing away. It wasn’t fear or disgust, but _awe._

“Who?” Resolved questioned, every inch of him shaking as he went to sweep up the salt into his palm. “Geneva? Jessamine?”

“Resolved, it doesn’t _matter._ All that matters is that her presence in and of itself will be enough to at least throw our enemies off.”

“If they don’t collapse at the mere sight of her—Dipper, that makes you a fourth generation _Carbone._ Do you know what that means?” Resolved tossed the salt over his shoulder, making his way toward Dipper. “You—”

Dipper held up his hand, lips turning down in distaste. “—It means jack _shit._ We don’t go by the old rules here, Resolved. That was the point of this place. Equality and safety under common law.”

Resolved backed down slightly, confusion bleeding into his features. “But her status, her power—that’s why you’re bringing her here.”

“Yeah, and? I need to use it,” Dipper replied. “I need her to use it to protect Bill, because I can’t. That’s the end of that story, Resolved. And you’re vacuuming up that salt later.”

“So, sorry about this, I know. Kind of annoying. Comes with being human, I think.” Bill had raised his hand, and was looking around the room. “What the hell is going on?”

“Nothin’ that needs worryin’ about—” Gideon rose from his seat and fisted one of Resolved’s torn sleeves in his chubby fingers. “—You sit your nosey ass right on down in that chair right there and be quiet. You’re makin’ him anxious, and he’s barely got the head for plannin’ as it is. There was a reason Manisa was in charge, and not either of you boneheads.”

“You’re awfully loud and bossy,” Resolved stated, though it wasn’t vindictive or hateful. It sounded like he was _teasing_ the human. He sat down all the same, a small smile curling at the edges of his lips.

“You go ahead, honey,” Gideon told Dipper. “What else do you have to tell us about this crotchety old sister of yours?”

“She’s bringing her husband. Who happens to be her sire,” Dipper told them—there was a soft bang as Resolved smacked at the table, eyes bright with excitement. With _hope._ Dipper didn’t realise how destitute the man had looked before—Dipper snorted, but didn’t truly _judge_ Resolved. They needed faith wherever they could get it.

“Mabel is very old-fashioned. Which means a couple things.” Dipper stood up, using his fingers as a counting device. “She’s homophobic, xenophobic, and racist. But not outwardly, and typically not to strangers—sorry, Gideon— and she’ll try to brush off her insults as jokes if you call her out on it. Mabel’s also not used to people telling her no. That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t.”

“She’s not going to like me,” Bill muttered glumly, balancing his chin on the back of the chair. “I mean, I’m half-Hispanic and gay. That hits all three on the nose, doesn’t it?”

“If it helps, doll, she doesn’t like me neither,” Gideon said softly, offering his palm across the table.

Dipper rolled his eyes. He tried to not let how friendly Gideon was with Bill gnaw at his jealousy; Gideon was just being genuinely sweet toward the human—that was who he was. Gentle, kind—and incredibly _annoying._

“I don’t care what she likes,” Dipper stated matter-of-factly. “And neither should you. Mabel’s opinion means absolutely _nothing_ to me. If she’s going to pitch a fit about who I date and who I spend time with, then that’s on her. I’m not going to change my life to appease her.”   

Dipper turned his head toward Gideon. “And she hates _you_ because you’re a witch. Not because you’re gay.”

“I am _not_ a witch,” Gideon argued. “A little bit of magic in my blood doesn’t make me a witch. You’re just all up in arms, assuming. You sure you don’t have something against me?”

“I don’t have anything against you. I just don’t know why you keep lying. It’s not like anyone cares.”

“ _You_ care,” Bill pointed out.

“Remember how I said you could stop being cute?” Dipper reminded dryly. “You’re on your way there.” He was rewarded with a playful grin, and he pressed a palm to his forehead. “Forget it. I’m going to go take a nap. The three of you are giving me a headache. Just… Tomorrow afternoon, possibly evening. Be ready.”

“Dipper, wait. Can I speak with you? Alone?” Resolved was once again to his feet and was following the vampire; Bill had also gotten to his feet to follow Dipper, inviting himself to his boyfriend’s nap without asking.

Dipper jerked his head toward the living room.

“Come on,” Dipper tilted his head to look at Gideon and Bill. He pointed a finger at Bill. “I’ll be back for you.”

Dipper snorted when he saw Bill’s expression brighten, and his heart rate. It looked like it was going to be easy to make the human happy, at least.

The younger vampire folded his arms behind him as he strolled into the living room, mentally sifting through the items he had stored away. There had to be more bits of gold jewellery tucked away in the boxes in there. His mind briefly stole away to an image that had him shuddering.

A canopy bed, dripping with crème coloured satin—Bill laid naked in the centre of sheets as black as the night itself, hugging the human’s humble curves and tickling along the hair of his thighs. Gold chains weighing him down and delicately circling his thin wrists and wrapping loosely around his neck—

Resolved’s voice broke him from his fantasy. “Dipper, you’re spacing off again.”

“Sorry. I… Don’t know what happened there. You needed to talk, right?” Dipper muttered; he grabbed the door to the living room and carefully closed it.

“Yes.” Resolved walked over to one of the armchairs; he barely fit his large form into one of the slender chairs, and Dipper laughed and joined him by the window. “The aid that your sister lends will no doubt be crucial to our mission to protect Bill. But that doesn’t mean that we can be in a weakened or hungry state when facing our enemy. If we aren’t at our best, who knows what might happen.”

“I see your point, but we can’t exactly go hunting. It’s too dangerous. If I die out there, then the house is fair game. Bill and Gideon won’t be safe.” Dipper leaned back in his chair, expression puzzled.

“I know.”

“Then what are you suggesting?” Dipper questioned; he waited a few moments for an answer, before he caught on. “No, and _no._ We aren’t going to feed from them. I already fed from Bill last night.”

“And yet he is none the worse for wear,” Resolved hissed. “What Jolene gave you, and inadvertently _me,_ isn’t enough to sustain us in a fight. It might fight off the basic sway of our hunger, but that’s _it._ They’re human, and they’re convenient. I’m sure they’d understand.”

“It doesn’t matter if they’d understand. I’m not going to feed off the man I want to protect. And I’m not going to let you, either,” Dipper told him stubbornly. “And don’t you dare ever call Bill or Gideon _convenient.”_

“They mean a lot to you, and don’t assume that my feelings toward Gideon are purely based on my attraction to him. He is a wonderful man. I adore him to no end, and if I’m not strong enough when we’re besieged, then I won’t get to spend the rest of my existence finding every single reason _why.”_

Resolved pursed his lips, then frowned.

“What about that woman, Jolene?”

Dipper gritted his teeth against the beg in Resolved’s voice. He'd tried her number before he'd called his sister; with a patient, steady voice, he'd explained to Resolved that the number came back unknown and unregistered.

“Then you know it’s the correct decision, Dipper,” Resolved muttered. “It's the only choice we have.”

Pushing his face in his hands, Dipper made an uncertain groan. “Resolved—say I agree to this. You’d have to make a promise to me.”

“And what would that be?” Resolved questioned.

“I… I’m not a fledgling anymore. But I never learned how to… _Ration,”_ Dipper muttered, embarrassed. “I don’t know how to stop. I get caught up in drinking.” The younger vampire looked down at his hands. “I’d need you to… You know. Stop me.”

“If that’s what you need, I would certainly oblige.” Resolved didn’t even look ruffled by the request; his posture denoted nothing but respect. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of, Dipper. Plenty of vampires with bored or uninvolved sires have an issue with controlling their hunger. You should have spoken with me sooner—I would have been glad to teach you.” Resolved reached over and took Dipper’s hand within his own. “And I sympathise with you, Dipper. I am sorry for the life your sister has forced upon you. And yet, in the same breath, I am glad that you have lived long enough that I got to meet you.”

“Oh, stop that,” Dipper snapped, snatching his hand away. He hiked his shoulders high, hoping to look grouchier than normal. “Let’s go propose this shitty plan to the boys in the other room. And get that stupid grin off your face.”

“You are a gem, Dipper Pines.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!
> 
> My beta is EmberGlows :3
> 
> Song for this chapter:  
> Look What You Made Me Do by Taylor Swift
> 
> Want to stay updated? Click [here](http://everyday-im-preaching.tumblr.com/) to stay in the know!


	32. Bed, Bill

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Nice to see you! I went to the Highland Games this weekend and DIDN'T get sunburned. That has to be some sort of magic. Or maybe just a lot of sunscreen.
> 
> Looks like this fic is winding down--or is it winding up? Haha. If you enjoyed this chapter, please leave a comment below! It really helps inspire me when it comes to writing more chapters, one shots, and everything else! (Plus the content with the most comments gets updated first!)

“ _ Set me as a seal on your heart, _

_ As a seal on your arm; _

_ for stern as death is love, _

_ relentless as the netherworld is devotion; _

_ its flames are a blazing fire. _

_ Deep waters cannot quench love, _

_ nor floods sweep it away. _

_ If one were to give all the wealth of one’s house for love, _

_ it would be utterly scorned.” _

_ Song of Songs, 8:6-7 _

  
  


“Nap time?” Bill questioned as Dipper and Resolved returned to the kitchen. Bill looked Dipper over, letting his eyes wander over the vampire’s pinched face and gritted teeth. “Uh oh, that doesn’t look like a good face.”

“Honestly, I don’t know how you can tell,” Gideon teased, tipping his mug of tea at Dipper. “I think he looks like that all the time.”

Bill laughed, shaking his head and taking a swig from his own mug. Dipper crossed his arms over his chest, rolling his eyes. 

“Your tea has to be cold by now,” Dipper told the two of them, too antsy to sit down. 

At his tone, Bill looked up. His lips pursed and his eyebrows pinched together in concern. “Dipper, what’s wrong?” The human put his mug down with a less-than-subtle clunk. Bill was up from his chair and on his way to Dipper before the vampire could respond, frowning the entire way. 

Resolved laid a hand on Dipper’s shoulder. “We need to feed,” he announced.

Bill stopped in his tracks, looking between Dipper and Resolved; Dipper had turned his face away, staring at the floor with a distant, disinterested look. Resolved was so blunt about it. Normally Dipper would have admired such a thing—but feeding without killing, especially when it came to a  _ partner,  _ was something that should be handled delicately. 

“You need to feed?” Gideon asked, expression matching Bill’s.

“We’re not going to be any good if we’re hungry,” Dipper muttered, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans and staring at the kitchen curtains. He turned to the two humans in the room and crossed his arms back across his chest. “Look, I’m not happy about it. I don’t want to feed off you or Bill or  _ anyone.  _ But right now, we’re about as useful as a set of wet paper bags.”

“What Dipper is trying to say is that we won’t survive a fight,” Resolved tried to clarify. “We have enough blood in us to keep us sane, but…” Resolved sighed and closed his eyes. “…But that’s about it.”

“And I’m guessing your sister isn’t bringing any more blood?” Gideon asked, lips turning down into a grimace.

“Mabel isn’t one to keep blood on hand, Gideon. And she’s definitely not one for the packaged stuff. If she brings anything, she’ll catch some kid off the street and haul them in here, half-dead.” Dipper watched Bill visibly shudder at the thought, the proceeded. “Though she does consider me an adult, so bringing me food really isn’t in her nature anymore.” 

Gideon tapped his fingers against the table, and Dipper could see the gears turning in his head. After a second, he sighed and flattened them across the wooden surface. 

“I… Well, Dipper.” Gideon let out a soft huff, then crossed his arms over his chest. He fiddled with one of the buttons on his shirt, expression equal parts thoughtful and anxious. “I don’t like the idea of neither of y’all feeding off of me. No offence, sugar bug. And I really don’t think you should be feeding from Bill, Dipper.”

“I’m okay with it,” Bill answered directly after Gideon. “Dipper knows I am.”

“That ain’t the point. Ain’t no reason he needs to drink from you. He’s uncomfortable about it. Look at his face.” Gideon pointed defiantly at Dipper. “If you guys really need the blood, I know a guy that’ll bring me blood from the morgue. It won’t be cheap and I’ll have a ton of questions that need answerin’, but I can get it done.”

Dipper’s visage brightened at the prospect; Resolved, on the other hand, deflated. The younger vampire attempted to have some sort of pity for Resolved having to eat refrigerated blood, but Dipper would take any reason not to bite Bill.

“That would work,” Resolved murmured, running a hand through his hair whilst trying not to look defeated. Bill also looked minorly morose, but was better at hiding it. “How soon can you contact him?”

“Soon as Dipper hands me back my phone,” Gideon replied, extending a hand toward Dipper. The younger vampire was all too happy to surrender the phone, settling it in Gideon’s hand without a single regret. 

Dipper felt a weight lift off his shoulders, and he straightened. “Are you sure he’ll be able to help?” 

Gideon nodded.

“Should be no problem for him. Ravi is pretty reliable when it comes to weird requests.” Hearing the inquisitive noise from Resolved, Gideon rolled his eyes. “Not that kind of weird request. Keep your mind out of the gutter, hon.” 

Ignoring the two of them, Dipper turned to Bill. The human looked…  _ Ashamed. _ “Hey, Bill. Still up for that nap?”  

Bill brightened considerably, but his grin was shaky as he covered the lingering ground between him and Dipper. Dipper frowned up at him and pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth. 

“I’m still in a napping mood,” Bill told Dipper, interlacing their fingers. “If you’re still up for having me.” 

Dipper lifted his free hand to push some hair from Bill’s face, and then kissed him again, this time directly on the mouth. “I’ll always be up for having you,” he whispered against the human’s lips. Turning toward the other two men in the room, one of which was on his phone, he narrowed his eyes. “There’s a second bedroom upstairs, on the other side of the hall. If you get up to any funny business, keep it  _ quiet. _ ” 

 

Bill was uncharacteristically quiet as they entered the bedroom; he tugged off his shirt and neatly folded it between his fingers. Dipper watched Bill, waiting for him to say something; the look on Bill’s face was utterly  _ tragic.  _ Like a kid who had received coal for Christmas.

“What’s bothering you?” Dipper asked, when Bill didn’t open up. 

Bill shrugged, laying his shirt on the top of Dipper’s messy dresser. Not accepting that as an answer, Dipper came over to the human and laid a hand on his arm. 

“I’ve already brought it up. I don’t want to annoy you with it,” Bill told him quietly. 

Dipper kept himself from groaning in frustration. “It’s the feeding thing, isn’t it? Why are you so obsessed with it?” He pinched Bill’s arm, getting the human to bat at his hand.

“I am  _ not  _ obsessed with it. I just…” Bill placed his hands on the dresser, and Dipper took a brief second to appreciate the human’s biceps. “…I just… I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop, Dipper. This isn’t a fairy tale or some fifteen-year-old’s teen novel.” Bill was shaking now, gripping the dresser so hard that his fingers whitened. “You can’t be helping me just because you  _ like  _ me.” 

Bill’s voice became muted. Softer. 

“Nobody likes me.” 

Dipper cocked an eyebrow, then shook his head. “You caught me.” Dipper slipped up behind Bill, winding his arms around the human’s waist and pressing a hand to the top of Bill’s jeans and thumbing the button. Bill’s breath hitched at the gentle pressure. “I’m definitely risking my life because sex with you is so worth it.”

“I don’t know if I should be offended,” Bill snapped out. “Do you really think this is funny?”

Dipper let out an irritated growl. That was enough. 

Bill was twisted around to face Dipper before he could take a breath, back pressed hard against the dresser behind him. 

“Do I think this is funny?” Dipper asked, one hand gripping Bill’s shoulder and the other hooked around Bill’s waist. “Do I look like I’m laughing, Bill? Does it look like I’m just having a laugh? Huh? Look me in the eye.”

Bill opened his mouth, and then closed it, swallowing anything he was about to say.

“There is no other shoe. Nothing else is going to  _ drop. _ I am too old and tired for the kind of shit you’re proposing, Bill. I like you. But I get it. People are assholes. People lie and jerk you around to get what they want.” Dipper moved his hand up, cupping Bill’s neck. “And everyone has been so shitty to you that you don’t want to believe that there are decent people out there. I know that’s going to take some time to get over.” 

“I…” Bill’s lips trembled, and Dipper shook his head. 

“Bill, I don’t want to hurt you,” Dipper told him. “I know that you don’t have faith in that just yet. And maybe after this fiasco you still won’t. And that’s okay. All I’m asking for now is a little trust.” Dipper sighed and shook his head. “I just… I feel like this. Us. You.” The vampire’s hand crept higher, ghosting over Bill’s jaw. He let it play over the human’s skin, feeling it heat beneath his fingers. “You’re here for a reason. And it’s up for you to decide what that is—but I’d like to think that it’s for me.” 

“For you?” Bill asked, swallowing thickly. “That’s awfully selfish, you know.”

“I’m a vampire.”

Bill let out a weak laugh. “I didn’t know that was a vampiric trait.” He looked away from Dipper, drawing his bottom lip into his mouth. “I’m sorry for bringing it up again.”

“If you need to be reassured, then that’s fine,” Dipper told Bill, taking his hand gently in his and squeezing. “But I’m not going anywhere.”

Bill went quiet after that, letting Dipper lead him over to the bed and push him down onto it. Dipper joined him, cuddling up against his side and letting the human curl around him. A heavy arm laid over Dipper’s side, and he chuckled as lips found his eyebrow. 

“Is there a reason you didn’t leave that day?” Bill asked, slipping a hand into Dipper’s hair and mussing the curls there. “When I approached you.”

Dipper let out a quiet, thoughtful hum. He drew a finger down Bill’s chest, and that finger turned into a hand, letting its palm rest against Bill’s belly and fingers splay outward.

“Sometimes, Bill, we do things that don’t make sense. Logically.” He swept his hand up, taking his time, loving the way the muscles twitched and the occasional, sharp intake of breath he garnered from Bill. “Which is just a lame way of saying that I don’t know. I don’t know why I didn’t leave. But I didn’t.”

“I’m glad you didn’t,” Bill responded, reaching for the blanket and tugging it over the two of them. 

“Me too. This has been the most exciting my life’s been since I was changed.” Dipper frowned. “God, I can’t wait until all of this mess is over.” The vampire pressed his cheek to Bill’s chest, listening to the beat of his heart. “Just picture it. Not having to talk to anyone, having a regular sleep schedule—waking up to your annoyingly cheerful face.”

“You plan on waking up to my face?” Bill asked, tone a tad hopeful. 

“Well I sure as hell don’t plan on waking up alone. Or worse, with Gideon.” Dipper tugged Bill closer, kissing the skin closest to his mouth. Bill giggled and returned the simple affection, pressing his lips to Dipper’s forehead.

“You do realise you’d have to talk to me, right?” Bill questioned, voice partially muffled by Dipper’s hair.

“I have a few ideas on better uses for your mouth,” Dipper replied. Bill let out an unmanly squeak, legs shifting and knees knocking against each other. “Go to sleep, Bill. We’ve got a long couple days ahead of us, and I’m irritable enough  _ with  _ sleep. You really don’t want to see me after an all-nighter.”

“By, better uses, do you mean—”

“ _ Bed,  _ Bill.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there guys. Right on time!
> 
> My Beta is Emberglows <3
> 
> Song for this chapter:  
> Housewife Spliffin' by Ängie
> 
> Want to stay updated? Click [here](http://everyday-im-preaching.tumblr.com/) to stay in the know!


	33. I'm Not Caine, Cause You're Not Abel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello guys! What's up?  
> If you like this chapter, this fic, all that mess--please, _please_ leave a comment below! Especially if you want to see more Billdip fanfiction in the future!  
>  Thank you so much!

_ “And saying, _

_ the time is fulfilled, _

_ and the kingdom of God is at hand: _

_ repent ye, and believe the gospel.” _

_ -Mark 1:15 _

 

“Ravi’s going to be fine.” Dipper sighed, head resting on the arm of the couch. His eyelids were heavy; a long, warm nap and a belly full of blood (bagged as it may have been) had him drowsier than he’d been before. It didn’t help that Bill was still attached to his side, having only left for Dipper and Resolved to drink. 

“You don’t even care,” Gideon huffed, propping his hands on his hips and glaring at Dipper. 

Dipper shrugged, pressing his lips to Bill’s forehead. The human let out a soft sigh, snuggling closer. 

“Frankly, Gideon, it was your idea,” Dipper told him, closing his eyes and pressing his forehead against Bill’s. “And I’m thankful that you came up with it and were able to pull it off. But you’ve got to give me a little wiggle room. I don’t like humans in general—I’m not going to waste the energy caring about one I don’t even know.

Gideon shook his head, bottom lip pushing out into a pout. “Dipper Pines, you are a monster. I hope you know that.”

“I am. And I know.” Dipper kissed Bill’s cheek. “I accept that fact.” Slowly, so as not to wake the slumbering human, Dipper sat up, retracting his limbs. He levelled his gaze at Gideon. “And I admire your attempts to… I don’t know, change? Make up for past mistakes? Whatever it is, I admire it.” 

Dipper stood up; he’d donned a sweater after he’d woken up, so that Bill didn’t feel as if he was lying next to a freezer. He looked down, picking at some tiny, white pilings. “But I know who you used to be, Gideon Gleeful. I know what I saw, that day I found you.” Dipper lifted his head again, noting the pallor that had overtaken Gideon’s face. “And I still let you into this city, against the council, against my better judgement.”

“That isn’t anything you need to bring up in decent company,” Gideon hissed as Resolved re-entered the room. He’d went to shower and found something amongst Bill’s clothes to wear, looking mildly confused; he must have sensed the tension in the room.

“I just wanted to remind you that there’s more than one monster in this room,” Dipper told him lightly. “I like you, Gideon. Don’t try and change that.”

“You’re more sore than usual,” Gideon huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. 

Dipper snorted and walked around him, stretching his arms above his head as he yawned. “Or maybe you’re more annoying. The world will never know.” 

“Did I miss something?” Resolved questioned, looking between the two. 

“Gideon’s worried about Ravi,” Dipper told him, making his way to the cabinets. He had the strange urge to cook something for Bill. “I’m not. Gideon’s upset because I don’t care.”

“He  _ is _ just a human,” Resolved pointed out, walking over to Gideon. Gideon looked at him in disbelief, but the elder vampire simply cupped the human’s face and kissed his cheek. “No need to work yourself up over what happens to him.”

“Bill’s a human,” Gideon pointed out. 

“But he’s my human,” Dipper told him, voice flat. “I like him. Just because I like him doesn’t mean I like all humans. That’s not how this works.”

Gideon pressed his palm against his forehead, shaking it. 

“I can’t believe I’m friends with y’all,” Gideon muttered, but there was no malice in it. Resolved chuckled and wrapped his arms around the short man, rubbing his cheek against the top of Gideon’s head. Gideon swatted a hand at him, but Resolved only kissed his forehead.   
  


A sharp, polite rapping on the front door had Dipper nearly jumping from his seat; the scent of decay, of  _ death,  _ that painfully sweet smell of  _ vampire,  _ was teasing him from outside the house. Resolved looked to be on edge as well, body stiffening.

“Is that our guest?” Resolved questioned softly, flicking his eyes to look at Dipper. 

Dipper reflexively swallowed, and then nodded. Straightening some of the more notable creases from his sweater, he offered Bill a quiet kiss to the forehead before heading toward the hallway. 

Resolved stood, about to follow Dipper. “Do you need—”

“—Stay in the dining room,” Dipper barked out, narrowing his eyes. “I don’t want anyone talking to Mabel before I do.” He gritted his teeth, grounding himself for when he opened the front door. He hadn’t seen his sister in  _ years.  _ Dipper had banned her from his house, had blatantly avoided phone calls and letters—and now he’d willingly invited her back into his life. For a  _ human.  _

Hopefully it was worth it. 

Another knock, louder than before. Dipper was now standing in the hallway, fingers inches from the door handle. He wished he had lungs, that he were able to steady himself with a deep breath—that he could hear his own heartbeat—being near Mabel always made his desire to be human stronger than his rationale. 

“Dipper.” Mabel’s voice was the sort of ethereal, unsettling soft that one associated with  _ serial  _ killers, not siblings. “Open the door, little brother. I know you’re there.”

“Don’t be creepy about it,” Dipper snapped, yanking the door open; his nose was suddenly assuaged with a cacophony of unpleasant scents—the first and foremost being  _ roses. _

The pungent smell of rose petals and moss hit him in the face and had him stumbling back, snarling quietly. Mabel was in his arms seconds later—or rather, he was in  _ her  _ arms, wrapped into a tight, unforgiving hug that lifted him into the air. 

“Brother, oh how wonderful it is to see you!” Mabel gushed, spinning him in a circle and kissing every inch of his face. “It’s been so long—Tad, just put the bags over there, we can take them upstairs later.” 

“I wish the feeling was mutual. Put me down,” Dipper demanded. Mabel hushed him, squeezing him tight. 

“Nonsense.” Mabel cupped his face and tilted it upward, staring him in the eye. “I forgot how short you were in comparison to me.” 

For Dipper, it was like looking into a mirror; if the mirror contained a feminine, attractive female version of yourself within it, that was. Mabel had matured early, filled out in all the right places with plump cheeks and lips perfect for noble pouts. Mabel furrowed her brow, drawing her thumb across his cheek. 

“Have you fed recently? Your complexion seems lacking.” Mabel passed her thumb along Dipper’s bottom lip, and then drew her hand away.

“Leave him be, darling,” Tad told her, snatching her hand away and bringing it to his lips. Mabel giggled as he kissed along her knuckles, drawing her away from Dipper and into his arms. “We are here for a reason, after all.”

Dipper caught the side glance that Tad gave him, and he shuddered. Tad often regarded him as  _ competition  _ of all things. He couldn’t have been happier when Dipper had refused to see Mabel—unfortunately he was also pinned beneath Mabel’s’ thumb, bound by some unknown magic to her will. 

“Oh, yes, we are. Where’s the husband? We brought newlywed gifts—”

“—Mabel, we’re not… Our relationship isn’t  _ that _ …” Dipper sighed and rolled his eyes. “…We’re not married.”

“I see, a new lover, then? All the same, we brought gifts.” Mabel pulled herself away from her doting husband, picking up a rather large, simple bag that was adorned with lace that probably cost more than the clothes Dipper was wearing. “You sound pretty serious about the man, so consider them early newlywed gifts.”

Mabel looked at Tad with a huffy, displeased look. “Greet my brother properly.”

“This is a mistake,” Dipper muttered, going to shove his hands into a hoodie pocket, only to realise there wasn’t one.

“I’m glad we agree,” Tad murmured in agreement, laying a hand on Dipper’s shoulder and leaning over; he brushed his lips over Dipper’s forehead. “I don’t think I need to stress this—but once this ordeal is over, I don’t expect to hear from you. Ever again.”

“I didn’t contact you,” Dipper hissed back as Mabel hummed to herself; Dipper knew she could hear the two, but was too occupied, and amused by their conversation, to stop them. “I contacted Mabel. Not my fault she yanked on your leash and dragged you along.”

“You best watch your attitude,” Tad told Dipper, squeezing the younger vampire’s shoulder. “I love your sister, not you.”

“Fuck off, Strange.” 

“If you’re done quibbling?” Mabel asked, tugging out a few flat, wrapped packages. She turned toward Dipper, arms now full of gifts. “I’d like to meet my future brother-in-law.”  
  


Mabel stopped in the doorway, previously cheerful expression dropping from her face as soon as she saw Gideon. Her lips pressed into a tight, unhappy line and her eyes turned all but dead. Gideon rolled his eyes and sat back in his chair, keeping a close eye on the other Pines twin. 

She turned toward Bill, who was sleepily sitting up from the couch. “Since you’re the only mortal creature in here that  _ doesn’t  _ turn my stomach, you must be Bill.” Mabel tilted her head to the side, smiling down, fangs and all. “And aren’t you  _ cute. _ ”

“Mabel.” Dipper spoke her name like a warning, letting his possessiveness seep into his voice. Mabel instantly took a step back, blinking in confusion at Dipper. 

Walking around her, Dipper approached Bill—the human had frozen where he was, chest heaving in fear as he stared at Mabel. Dipper offered him a hand, and Bill took it shakily, allowing Dipper to help him to his feet and guide him to Mabel, who had set her load of presents on a nearby table. 

“This is my twin sister, Mabel,” Dipper told Bill gently, twisting their fingers together. He looked at Mabel, nodding to Bill. “This is Bill. Bill Cipher. My boyfriend. Lover. Important person in my life, I guess.”

Bill looked down, squeezing Dipper’s fingers. He greeted her shyly, shifting closer to Dipper. 

“No need to be scared of me,” Mabel told Bill, stepping closer; Bill stiffened and clenched his teeth. Mabel didn’t seem to notice because she got closer still. “I’m sure my brother has told you any number of horror stories about me, but I assure you—I am here to help.”

When Mabel reached out to pet Bill’s chest, he  _ bolted,  _ taking several stuttered steps backward before skidding into the kitchen. Mabel looked downright offended and turned to look at Dipper. 

“What on earth did you tell him?” Mabel demanded. “I thought you wanted me to meet him?”

“Didn’t need to tell ‘im nothing,” Gideon offered from his seat. “Your face is enough to scare the skin off a cat.” 

“No one asked for your opinion,  _ witch,” _ Mabel hissed at him, eyes flashing. Dipper stepped in front of her before she could make a move, staring her down. 

“I didn’t tell him anything,” Dipper lied. “Why would I? We’re twins. I don’t hate you.” 

Mabel’s offensive, aggressive stance relaxed instantly. She looked up at Dipper, smile blossoming on her face once more. 

“Look, he’s not used to supernatural creatures that don’t want to kill him.” Another lie. “Give him a break.” Dipper craned his head to look at Bill. “Bill. Come back over here, won’t you? Mabel isn’t going to hurt you.” 

“That’s right, darling. Any lover of Dipper’s is as good as a lover of mine. Let me have a better look at you.” Mabel was peeking around Dipper, looking almost  _ hungrily  _ at Bill. 

“Don’t say it like that. What did I say about being creepy?” Dipper told her. Mabel rolled her eyes at him, and Dipper watched Bill slowly get up and return to Dipper’s side, sidling up and pressing directly against it like a frightened dog.

“What a waste of a handsome man,” Mabel breathed, looking Bill over. “If I’d have met you on the street, I wouldn’t have pegged you for homosexual—you don’t look the least bit feminine. Then again, look at my brother. You wouldn’t think he had a sex life at all, with a face like that.” 

Bill looked at her for a second, eyes wide and gaze frozen in offended disbelief. 

Mabel laughed, sincerely, and then reached out to pet Dipper’s cheek. “You know I only kid—Now, I’m here to help, am I not? Tad—”

“—Right here, darling.” Tad wrapped his arms around her, kissing the side of her face and getting another giggle. “I’d rather not interfere with family business, unless I must.”

“You  _ are  _ family,” Mabel told him, confidence never wavering. “Dipper, dear brother, could you shoo the trash from the room before we sit down?” She gestured toward Gideon, who stood up without further prompting.

“Ain’t no need. I feel my IQ dropping just bein’ in the room with your hateful ass.” Gideon shuffled past her, flinching only slightly when both her and Tad bore their fangs. Dipper bore his in response, and Gideon’s shoulders relaxed.

“Send Resolved in, won’t you?” Dipper asked Gideon, who made some noncommittal noise that sounded vaguely like agreement. “Thank you, Gideon.” 

“Not a problem, sug.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My beta is EmberGlows :3
> 
> Song for this fic:  
> Candy Store by Jessica Keenan Wynn, Alice Lee & Elle McLemore
> 
> Want to stay updated? Click [here](http://everyday-im-preaching.tumblr.com/) to stay in the know!


	34. It's Not Just The House

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! I finally watched the new Beauty and the Beast, and he lands a solid 9/10 on my scale of "would fuck". Mm. Why are all the good monsters taken?
> 
> Anyway.
> 
> If you like this chapter, or just have something to say, please leave a comment! I read and try to respond to all of them!

  
  


_ “Whom have I in heaven but you? _

_ And earth has nothing I desire besides you.” _

_ -Psalms 73:25 _

 

Mabel’s smile dangled uselessly from her lips when Resolved entered the room. Dipper could see the distaste that encroached on her features, settling on the soft of her jaw and dancing along her arched eyebrows.

“You must be… Resolved,” Mabel greeted slowly, trying to sound pleasant. “A pleasure to meet you. I figured that Dipper was friendless—it’s always a nice thing to know when one’s wrong. Mabel Strange.” She offered the other vampire a hand, and he took it almost timidly, meeting her eye. 

“Resolved.” He shook her hand gently, letting his eyes flick to the tall, lithe wisp of a man behind her. “It is an honour to have you as guests, however brief it may be.” Resolved pulled his hand back, and Dipper had to hold back a smile when he covertly wiped it on the back of his shirt.

There was a brief silence wherein Resolved sat down, before Mabel spoke. “Well, we’re not here to simply chat and wile away the hours with pleasantries.” She spun herself neatly into the nearest chair with an amount of grace that many would envy. “Tell me, brother. What situation has your lover found himself in?” 

Bill squeaked at the term  _ lover,  _ hands instinctively rising to cover his reddening cheeks. Mabel chuckled at his reaction. 

“We’re not entirely sure,” Dipper answered, laying a hand on Bill’s knee; the human was sitting as close as possible to Dipper, their legs touching and nearly overlapping. It felt sort of like he was repeating himself, but Dipper pressed on anyway. “Someone wants Bill dead or captured over a piece of information that he can’t remember?”

“Can’t?” The question came from Tad, not Mabel.

Dipper nodded. “Bill suffered from retrograde amnesia—he can’t remember a good portion of his past.”

“The last three years is about all I have stored in here,” Bill supplied, tapping his finger against his forehead. He pursed his lips, and then furrowed his brow. “Well, two and a half. I spent a good amount of time in the hospital, and those days kind of—” He cut himself off, staring down at his hand. 

Dipper reached over and locked their fingers together; Bill visibly relaxed at the vampire’s touch, going as far as to lean over and knock their heads together. Dipper let out a soft hushing noise and touched his lips to Bill’s temple. 

“So you’ve no memory of why they’re… Upset with you? That’s an awful bit of luck, isn’t it?” Tad asked, resting a hand on Mabel’s shoulder. 

“None at all,” Bill replied, shrugging his shoulders. 

Tad clicked his tongue. “And that’s the only bit of information you have? That these… People, they’re after you for some reason or another? That and the fact that they’ve tried to kill Dipper on multiple occasions?”

“That’s about it, yeah,” Dipper answered, squeezing Bill’s hand.  

“The only other person who might know what’s going on has vanished. Overnight, it seems,” Resolved said. Dipper turned his head toward his friend, raising an eyebrow. “Jolene Stride, as it were. The ‘scientist’.”

“Frankly, I’m not sure she ever existed,” Dipper muttered. Bill tilted his head up at Dipper, expression quizzical. “It’s nothing. What matters is that we can’t contact her. So we’re flying blind, essentially.”

“And currently located in a  _ very  _ flammable building,” Resolved pointed out. 

Mabel shook her head, arms crossing over the front of her. “If they want the knowledge that Bill used to have, they won’t kill him. Yet. If there’s any chance of him still being in the building, and if they’re also vampires, burning the place down won’t help the situation.”

“No, they’re more likely to try and draw us out—we need to get the upper hand,” Tad muttered, letting his fingers play with a few loose strands of Mabel’s hair. “We need to know where they are.”

“No,  _ no,” _ Mabel argued, looking up at Tad through thick lashes with a pout. “We should use the house as a base, remain indoors—we can’t wait them out, but they can’t come in.”

Tad cocked an eyebrow, then laid his hand upon her head and gently mussed the hair there. “Darling, I have been alive for over nine hundred years,” he murmured, pressing his lips to her ear. “I think I have the practical knowledge needed to come up with a strategy without your input.”

Dipper’s hands curled into fists on instinct as Mabel’s face fell, cracking and showing the confusion beneath. 

“Of course, dear,” Mabel replied mutely, before her grin spread back across her face. “So, we don’t have any leads then? We can’t simply scour the city, slaughtering every vampire we see. That’s counterproductive, considering how long it took to build this little oligarchy you have.” 

Dipper opened his mouth to say something, but was interrupted by  _ music.  _ For a moment, he thought it was his phone, before Bill pulled out his phone from behind him. It had slipped down into the couch cushions, and Dipper watched in confusion as the human tugged it free.

“Probably work,” Bill muttered, avoiding making eye contact with Dipper. His expression went from embarrassed, to peeved, and then to confused as he looked at the screen. “Private caller? That, uh. Doesn’t sound promising. Hopefully just a tax collector.”

“You should answer it,” Dipper told his boyfriend; he didn’t know why, but the soft, solemn ringing of Bill’s ringtone had a sense of impending doom tromping along behind it, heavy-footed and palpable. 

“I don’t want to,” Bill muttered, pushing the phone into Dipper’s hands. “You answer it.”

Dipper raised an eyebrow, but did as he was asked, holding it to his ear.

“Hand the phone to Bill.” It was that same, low whisper from the window.

“And why should I?” Dipper asked, crossing his legs and leaning back in the chair. Bill was looking up at him, wide-eyed and concerned. “Frankly, I don’t like you scaring him. Which is all you’re going to do.”

“Do you really think you’re going to be able to protect him? Two extra vampires aren’t going to make much of a difference, in the long run. You’re just adding more bodies to the pile. Is that what you want?” 

Dipper rolled his eyes. “Oh, shove it. You’re not intimidating, and I’m sure as hell not scared of you. You’re only making yourself look like an idiot, so go fuck yourself.”

With a solid, poignant click, Dipper hung up, hoping that the person on the other end of the line stuck around long enough to hear the phone beep.

“Who was that?” Mabel asked, cocking her head to the side. 

Dipper frowned, and then handed the phone back to Bill.

“Same person who was hanging outside the window earlier, making empty threats.”

Beside him, Bill began to fiddle with his phone. His face had brightened considerably upon hearing who the caller was, for a reason unbeknownst to Dipper. 

“What’s got you so happy?” Dipper asked dryly, nudging Bill’s foot with his own. Instead of responding, the human drew his hand back to himself. Dipper cocked an eyebrow as Bill opened an app he didn’t recognise, gleefully bouncing in his seat. It was like watching a child at Christmas.

“It looks like you’ve found something, hm?” Tad was looking at Bill’s hands, not quite able to see the screen from his angle. Bill held up a finger, and then placed the phone to his ear.

Everyone in the room waited with a myriad of confused looks on their faces as the phone rang, jingling merrily. Dipper’s eyes widened as the same creature that’d called answered with a confused hello. 

Bill jumped where he sat, pulling the phone from his ear and looking at it as if it were possessed. Dipper instinctively reached to take it from him, but the human pulled it away before he could. Bill pressed a thumb to the small speaker icon—an uncertain, questioning voice entered the room.

“ _ Hello _ ?” It was the same person from before, spilling out of the speakers. “ _ Oh, shit. Fucking _ — _ ” _ The phone hung up with the familiar click of a home phone smacking against its cradle. A shaky smile crossed Bill’s face, and he took a deep breath.

“Well, I got their number,” Bill muttered. 

“What? How did you get the phone number?” Dipper demanded, once again trying to catch a look at Bill’s screen. 

Bill swatted his phone at the vampire playfully, and Dipper frowned. “You look cute when you’re confused,” the human teased, and Dipper instantly dropped the look from his face, trading it for an unamused frown. 

“I have an app,” Bill replied, tilting his screen toward Dipper. “I, uh. I got a lot of calls, after I got out of the hospital. I was pretty sore about how I was being treated, so I reported a lot of them for harassment—it… Really didn’t do much. But it made me feel better.” 

“As sad as that is, how is this phone number supposed to help us?” Mabel asked; she didn’t bother to sound sympathetic—it didn’t suit her anyway. 

“Oh, that one’s easy,” Bill copied the phone number and then switched to his search engine, typing in something or another. “You know the click that ended our call? That means it’s a landline, in my experience. Now, normally I would ask for a phone book, but we’d be up all night—er, morning—trying to pick that number out of thousands.” 

“Plus, I don’t have a phone book,” Dipper interjected. 

Bill’s eyes flicked up at him, and he paused. Setting his phone aside, he reached into the magazine rack beside him and pulled out a thick, yellow book with any number of ads and images plastered across the front of it. He tapped it with his index finger, and Dipper pinched his eyes shut.

_ I’m getting really tired of being called out by a human,  _ Dipper muttered inwardly, before speaking.

“Whatever. Just. Continue with whatever you were saying.” 

Pleased with himself, Bill picked his phone back up. 

“People who own landlines are notorious for having their addresses listed in the phone book. Pair that with the fact that we’re dealing with a vampire—”

“— _ Possibly  _ a vampire—” Dipper interjected, but Bill pressed on anyway.

“—It’s highly likely that he or she didn’t bother paying for a private listing, since that’s more of a new thing anyway.”

Mabel furrowed her brow, and then looked at Bill. “But if the number wasn’t private, then why did you need to employ that phone application of yours?”

“There’s more than one way to make your phone number private,” Bill told her with a shrug; he hadn’t made eye contact with her since she’d introduced herself, and he couldn’t blame the human. There was something soulless about the way that Mabel stared. It was unnerving.

After a few seconds of Mabel staring blankly at him, he cleared his throat. “On, uh, landlines, you can press star and then follow it with the numbers six and seven. Then you dial your number, and it shows up as private to whomever answers.” 

“How did you come across this information?” Resolved asked, cocking his head to the side.

Again, Bill shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s just lodged in my brain, I guess.” He scrolled down on his phone, and then brightened. “Ah, here we go. One Sydney Jones, age unlisted. Last known address is… 3832 Bridgewell Drive—isn’t that on the other side of town? Near the lake?”

Bill had barely finished his sentence before the vampires in the room were standing, all hustling toward the hallway.

“Hey,  _ wait,” _ Bill scrambled up, grabbing Dipper’s elbow and trying to tug him back. “What are you doing? Where are you going?” 

Dipper looked at him, noting the concern on Bill’s face. Dipper paused, and the other vampires followed suit, all staring at the couple. He raised a hand to run his knuckles down the side of Bill’s face, knocking them against the human’s jaw. 

“You can’t just run off. You’ve got to have some sort of plan,” Bill murmured, turning his head to kiss at the folded fingers near his mouth.

“We have a plan,” Resolved answered, sticking his hands in the pockets of his borrowed jeans. “Kill whomever has put a price on your head.”

Mabel and Tad shared a look of confusion, but said nothing. 

“What sort of shit plan is that?” Gideon asked as he shuffled into view. Mabel instinctively stepped away from him, top lip rising in a snarl. He ignored her, and proceeded to lean against the doorway. He raised a single eyebrow in question. “Runnin’ in, guns blazin’—that gets more people killed than anything else. Y’all need a plan.”

Gideon closed his eyes, briefly, before taking a deep breath. “Y’all don’t know what’s in that house over there, or even if it’s the right one. There could be hunters waitin’ for ya. They could have flamethrowers or poison gas that’s laced with silver.”

“And so we sit and wait?” Tad questioned, almost aggressively.

“Oh, honey, don’t pretend you actually care,” Gideon drawled, pushing himself upright. Glaring at the elder vampire, he put a hand on his hip and continued. “You’re satisfied with doing whatever’s fastest so you can scurry back to whatever crypt you’re currently hauntin’.” 

“How  _ dare  _ you—” Mabel began, but Dipper stepped forward, right between her and Gideon.

“—Gideon has a valid point,” Dipper told her, looking sharply at her husband. “Tad doesn’t want to be here. And that’s fine. But we’re getting ahead of ourselves. We might have a name and an address, but that doesn’t… Really mean anything.”

Resolved let out a quiet hum. “It certainly means  _ something.  _ They did answer.”

Dipper frowned, vaguely aware that Bill wrapped him in a hug from behind. 

“We really don’t have time to go all Sherlock Holmes on this,” Dipper muttered. “But failing really isn’t an option.”

“Which is why we should wait  _ here,” _ Mabel reminded, even as Tad looked at her in disdain. “It’s hard to confuse enemy, friend, and innocent if only one of them wants you dead.” 

Mabel pulled away from Tad and walked over to her brother, placing her hands on his shoulders; to his credit, he didn’t flinch away, though he still didn’t meet her eyes. 

“We must  _ stay,  _ Dipper,” Mabel told him, gently shaking him. 

“You were about ready to go out there with the rest of ‘em, sug,” Gideon reminded, turning back toward the kitchen. “Now, if y’all don’t mind, I’m gonna go ward the house against fire. You say they won’t burn this place down, but I’ve got an itch in my bones that says differently.” 

“You’re going to ward the house?” Dipper asked, trying to keep the tease out of his voice.

“Shut up, Dipper. I ain’t no witch.”

“I didn’t say  _ anything,” _ Dipper told him, raising his hands in innocence. “You’re just incriminating yourself at this point.” 

A nose pressed itself against Dipper’s neck, and he sighed. Bill being clingy was nice and all, but he really needed to  _ think.  _ And not about Bill, and how infuriatingly  _ cute  _ he was being. 

“We need to figure out what we’re going to do. And fast,” Dipper announced. 

“Wait. Sydney. Syd?” Bill straightened. “That guy sent his goons after me for some drug or something that he thought I had.”

Dipper turned to face Bill before the human could react. “What?”

“That guy who was beating me up in the alley? Yeah, he worked for some guy named Syd.”

Dipper let out an audible groan and brought his hands to his face, rubbing them against it. “Are you serious? Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”

“I… I don’t know, it didn’t seem important,” Bill squeaked out, stepping backward. Everyone was staring him down; Dipper was almost sympathetic.

Resolved was the one to speak, shaking his head. “Bill, when you were asked why they might be after you, that would have been the proper response.  _ They want drugs that I may or may not have.” _

“I… Well, I’m not sure that they’re even drugs, I just assumed— Look, he said something about finding the Arc. I assumed Arc was a drug.” Bill was looking at Dipper, desperately looking for help. “He looked like the kind of guy who dealt drugs.”

“I get it, Bill,” Dipper told him, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Jesus Christ. You couldn’t have been a normal human, could you?”

“Dipper, I—” 

Dipper didn’t let him finish. The vampire turned on his heel and marched toward the kitchen, trying not to be angry with Bill. He hadn’t meant to keep the information to himself; he  _ couldn’t  _ have. 

Mabel, Tad, and Resolved followed behind him, and he could hear the beginning of chatter between his sister and her husband. It was spoken in French, most likely so no one could listen in. 

“Could you go talk shit somewhere else?” Dipper snapped, curling his hands into fists. “Better yet, I’ll go somewhere else. Fuck this. I can’t think in the same room with you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hullo!
> 
> My beta is EmberGlows :3
> 
> Song for this chapter:  
> Evermore by Dan Stevens
> 
> Want to stay updated? Click [here](http://everyday-im-preaching.tumblr.com/) to stay in the know!


	35. Minute By Minute

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi there guys! I took a much needed break, and now I'm back. 
> 
> If you enjoy this chapter, I'd love to hear from you in the comments below!

_ “Be completely humble and gentle; _

_ Be patient, bearing with another in love.”  _

_ -Ephesians 4:2 _

Dipper was halfway up the steps to the second floor when he heard the crying—specifically,  _ Bill  _ crying. Dipper furrowed his brow, cocking his head to the side. He took the rest of the steps carefully, doing his best to stay quiet. Bill was definitely crying, but about  _ what? _

Walking up to his bedroom door, Dipper knocked on it with a hesitant rap. On the other side, Bill hiccupped and sniffled loudly. Dipper folded his hands in front of him, waiting patiently as the human pulled himself from the bed or sitting chair—frankly, they were both so squeaky that Dipper couldn’t tell the difference in sound—and shuffled over to the door to open it.

When Bill saw it was Dipper, he took a step back. “I, I didn’t mean… I’m sorry, it was the first place I thought to come to. I’ll go.” Bill attempted to move past Dipper, but the vampire didn’t budge, simply staring at Bill.

“Where are you going?” Dipper questioned, stepping into the room and forcing Bill backwards. Bill swallowed and fidgeted with his hands, not looking at Dipper. “What’s wrong?” When Bill didn’t answer, Dipper reached down and grabbed at the human’s hands, running his fingers over the fidgeting digits. 

Bill pulled away, bringing his hands to his chest. “I… I didn’t mean to keep information from you,” Bill told him, taking another step back and then collapsing onto the bed when his knees hit the edge. “I’m sorry. I feel like such a burden on you.” He brushed the palm of his hand against his eyes, and then let it fall so he could rub it against his knee. “And I just… I mean… I’m not normal, that’s the whole problem.”

Dipper’s brow furrowed, and he stared at Bill for a moment, uncertain of what to say. He still didn’t understand why Bill was upset, not entirely. “Bill, I’m not mad about you keeping any information from me. Irritated, yeah. Mad? No. But I believe you when you say you didn’t mean to, so it’s easily forgiven.” Dipper crossed his arms over his chest. “And what’s all this about being normal?”

“You…” Bill frowned, the corners of his lips twitching. “You said—what you said downstairs. About me being normal? You asked why I couldn’t be normal.”

Realisation, like thunder, clapped through Dipper’s mind. He brought a hand up to pinch at the bridge of his nose, all whilst shaking my head.

“I… that’s not what I meant,” Dipper muttered out. “Bill, that’s not what I meant at all,  _ shit.  _ I fucked up, I’m sorry.” He stuffed his hands in his jacket pocket. “I didn’t mean that. I don’t want you to be normal, or society’s equivalent of normal.”

“But if I was, then none of this would be happening,” Bill pointed out, crossing his arms over his chest, hugging himself.

“Yeah, you’re right. If you were normal, you wouldn’t even be here. You’d be off teaching somewhere, not even considering vampires were real.” Dipper let his eyes ghost toward the floor, and they landed on a threadbare rug that was kicked under the bed. The colour had long faded from it, and Dipper made a mental note to get a new one. 

Dipper took a step forward, kneeling down to fix the rug. “If you were normal, you wouldn’t have called me away from the road. If you were  _ normal,  _ you wouldn’t have kissed me after finding out I was a vampire.” Dipper stood, the rug now straightened. Bill slowly turned his head to meet eyes with Dipper, every inch of his body tense and unsure. 

“I think that’s a normal reaction,” Bill squeaked out.

Dipper let out a soft laugh, shaking his head. He was quiet for a moment, before speaking again.

“Can you forgive me?” Dipper asked, voice just as quiet as Bill’s. “I… I was angry, and I let that anger speak for me. I would never want you to be anything more or less than you are, Bill.” 

Bill fiddled with his fingers for a moment, before nodding. “Yeah, thank you for apologising. I’m sorry I overreacted.”

“You didn’t overreact,” Dipper told him, hushing him instantly. “I promise.” He gently gripped Bill’s jaw, rubbing his thumb over the skin there. Bill nuzzled into the hand on his face, closing his eyes and letting out a heavy sigh. “If I ever do anything that upsets you, feel free to tell me.”

“Okay,” Bill replied, folding his hand over Dipper’s. Dipper leaned forward, pressing his lips to Bill’s still-wet eyes, chasing away tears and getting Bill to giggle. “Why are you so sweet to me?”

“Because I like you, probably,” Dipper told him, neatening Bill’s hair again. Bill nodded and kissed at Dipper’s palm. Dipper looked over his shoulder to see a familiar teddy bear sitting on top of his pillows. “Why is that in the bed?”

“Because I like it,” Bill told him in a huff. Dipper bent over the bed and picked the bear up, finding it just as soft as the day he bought it. Bill immediately went to take it back, snatching it even when Dipper tried to hold it out of his reach. 

“Sucks to be short, doesn’t it?” Bill teased, drawing the bear to his chest. Dipper flicked him in the forehead, getting sharp yelp. “Hey, that’s not fair.” 

“Neither is you being tall. Get over it,” Dipper told him, kissing the place he flicked. “Hey, want to help me brainstorm?”

“What are we brainstorming?” Bill asked, petting the head of his bear. Dipper sat down beside Bill, placing a hand on his thigh. 

“What to do,” Dipper replied, leaning over and laying his head on Bill’s shoulder. 

Bill cocked an eyebrow at him. “I thought that had already been decided.”

“I didn’t say staying here was my final answer. In fact, I don’t like that idea. At all.” Dipper bought his feet up, ready to untie his shoelaces to find his feet bare. He shrugged and dragged them up and onto the bed, squishing his cheek further against Bill’s shoulder.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Bill told him, giving him an odd look. Dipper cocked an eyebrow, thrusting his bottom lip out in a pout. Bill tilted his head to the side and leaned over, jostling Dipper free enough that he could kiss him. “After all this is over, I won’t be so scared all the time. Won’t let you bully me.”

“Bully you?” Dipper asked, the corner of his mouth quirking up as he got another kiss. “I don’t bully you.”

Bill grunted, putting his bear aside so he could draw his legs up on the bed. Dipper chuckled as their noses knocked against each other. Their lips connected again, and Dipper let himself be pulled into Bill’s lap. 

“This isn’t brainstorming,” Dipper told him, hooking an arm around Bill’s neck. Bill looked down at him, the picture of innocence. Dipper shook his head. “You could charm the devil with that face.”

“Is that a compliment?” Bill asked, leaning against the baseboard and tugging Dipper with him. “I guess there’s no room for fun when you’re trying not to get killed or kidnapped.” He furrowed his brow, and Dipper took a minute to get fully comfortable on Bill’s lap. 

“Don’t worry, you’re going to be fine,” Dipper assured, pressing his face into Bill’s shoulder. “I mean, we might not know what we’re fighting, but Mabel and Tad are probably the second and third scariest things in the world. Mostly Tad, actually.”

“Why only Tad? Does it have to do with that, uh, that Carbone thing? That’s a name, right?” 

“Yeah.” Dipper let out a soft sigh as he breathed in Bill’s scent, letting all of the tension and worry in his body drop from him. “The Carbone family contains some of the first known vampires—they claim that their bloodline is directly related to Judas Iscariot. I call bullshit on that—but that doesn’t mean they aren’t powerful. I mean, I’ve seen Tad walk through fire without getting burned.”

“But…” Bill turned his head to the side, looking unsure. “…Fire kills vampires. Right?”

Dipper shrugged nonchalantly. “Not Tad. Something about the original curse that Judas endured. In the Book of Agulah, it says that God cursed Judas to walk the earth until its final days, never knowing the comfort of death. And, you know. Feeding off the blood of humans was mentioned. He supposedly couldn’t die, and neither can some of the older families. At least not that easily. No one knows why.” Dipper raised a hand and rubbed at his forehead. “But it’s how our world works.”

“Can Mabel walk through fire?” Bill asked, eternally curious.

“No, Mabel can’t walk through fire untouched,” Dipper replied, going to pick at Bill’s shirt. “She’s just… hard to kill. Even with fire. But she won’t be walking through any without becoming disfigured. It’s hard to explain.”

“So what about you, then? Are you sturdier than the average vampire?” Bill asked, and Dipper wondered if every other thing out of him was a question.

“I mean, not really. Silver, fire, cut off my head—I’ll be just as dead as any other vampire.” Dipper snuggled closer to Bill. “But what I lack in sturdy, I make up for in stamina. I can last off less blood for longer than your common, garden-variety vampire.” Dipper paused for a moment, before deciding that he might as well tell Bill everything else that differentiated him from other vampires, and then deciding against that.

“Is that why you can cuddle up against me like this?” Bill asked, nuzzling Dipper’s hair. “Or can take all that damage and not drink from me?”

Dipper nodded. “Yeah. Normal vampires would have eaten you by now. Believe me, most of my willpower is based on my ability to withstand the pain of my thirst.” He kissed Bill’s throat, punctuating his point. Something in his chest stirred, and he winced. He was lying, or at the very best telling a half-truth. But he couldn’t tell Bill about the  _ real  _ reason he couldn’t drink from him. Instead, he cleared his throat.

“But, you know. That’s why our friendly neighbourhood cult, the cleaners, really like me. I mean, it helped that I vouched for them when they entered the city, but they think that my resistance to my thirst is something granted by God.” Dipper snorted, and he shook his head. “God. Really.”

“Did the cleaners give you the book?” Bill asked, running his fingers up Dipper’s sides. “Or did you just get it, like, as part of your vampire initiation.”

“The cleaners gave it to me,” Dipper replied, closing his eyes. “Didn’t I tell you this? Maybe I didn’t. Anyway, it was a gift. And then as I went along, well. Some of it makes sense. A little bit.”

“And then you joined the vampire cult?”

“And then I joined the vampire cult, yes,” Dipper replied dryly. “No, Bill, I didn’t join. I just. Listen in occasionally.”

“So, do you guys worship Judas?” Bill asked, ignoring the second half of Dipper’s answer. “Since he’s the father of vampires in your opinion?”

“I said, I’m not in a cult,” Dipper told him, pinching Bill’s side. The human let out an irritated huff. “They’re a cult. Sans me. I just believe some of the stuff in the book. And no, they don’t worship Judas. They worship God.”

“What do they think of Judas then? If they don’t worship him.” Bill sounded genuinely interested in the entire situation, same as before. “They’ve got to think something. He’s the reason they’re the way they are.”

“The cleaners think that Judas was cursed—but they also believe God is forever forgiving, and in the curse that he gave Judas, there was a blessing. A higher calling. He’s more like a saint than anything else.”

Bill cracked a smile. “Does he have a holiday? Like, a vampire holiday? Do you guys call in sick on Saint Judas Day?”

Dipper rolled his eyes, unamused.

“No, Bill. There’s no holiday. Vampires celebrate human holidays… at least, if there is a holiday, I’m not aware of it.” Dipper furrowed his brow. “I’m going to ask.”

Bill laughed, kissing the top of Dipper’s head.

“Stop that,” Dipper grunted, even as Bill wrapped his arms around Dipper, letting his hands gently stroke the vampire’s back. “It’s not funny.”

“ _ I  _ think it is,” Bill corrected. Dipper reached up and pinched his cheek.

“You probably think your own reflection is funny,” the vampire accused. 

Bill shrugged, smile never leaving his face. “Sometimes, if I’m in a particularly silly mood, yes.” He paused. “We should go join the others. Hammer some sort of plan out, right?”

“Ugh, fine, yeah.” Dipper didn’t make a move to get off the human’s lap. “In a minute.”

They sat there for no longer than ten seconds, before a loud, angry banging came from downstairs. Dipper groaned, quickly disentangling himself from Bill.

“Minute’s up, I guess?” Bill suggested, and Dipper shook his head, a growl rising in his throat.

“Minute’s up.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My beta is EmberGlows! :D
> 
> Trouble by Valerie Broussard
> 
> Want to stay updated? Click [here](http://everyday-im-preaching.tumblr.com/) to stay in the know!


	36. There's Power In The Blood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys, how's it going? 
> 
> If you like this chapter, then please, please, please leave a comment below! It helps inspire me and empower me to wite the next chapter within a reasonable time frame! Thank you ahead of time! I really appreciate them, I promise.
> 
> PSA:  
> Okay guys, I get that the warning that comments are moderated is scary and all, but I promise that there's a reason behind it, and that 99.9% of all comments are approved and replied too.  
> I write a LOT of content--typically I write and post/update THREE fics a week. And I tend to update whatever gets the most feedback. It's disheartening when I get next-to-nothing, and it makes me feel like you didn't enjoy the chapter, which makes it hard to write the next one. So when I say comments are appreciated, they really, really are.  
> Thank you.  
> -Your friendly neighborhood preacher

_ “Ye are all the children of the light, _

_ and the children of the day; _

_ We are not of the night, _

_ nor of darkness. _

 

_ But let us, who are of the day, _

_ be sober, _

_ putting on the breastplate of faith and love; _

_ and for a helmet, _

_ the hope of salvation.” _

— _ 1 Thessalonians 5:5, 8 _

 

“What the fuck,” Dipper demanded as he rounded into the dining room; Gideon had a bloodied lip and there was a rapidly healing bruise on Mabel’s jaw. Resolved was pressed against the door in the hallway, whilst Tad looked for things to bar it with. It was shaking underneath Resolved’s efforts, shuddering in an attempt to fly open—the magic was doing its job, however, keeping whatever was on the other side, out.

Dipper snapped his fingers at Resolved, who looked up. “Stop that. Nothing’s getting in without my permission.” He looked at Gideon and Mabel, who had temporarily stopped fighting to look at him. Gideon looked guilty, whilst Mabel looked downright  _ haughty.  _

“You need to keep your  _ witch  _ on a leash,” she hissed, jabbing a finger at Gideon. She then pointed at Resolved. “Him too.” 

“Excuse me?” Resolved rumbled as he stepped into the living room. 

“It hasn’t even been three days,” Bill muttered in soft curiosity from the hallway. “Hey, Dipper, is hasn’t even been—”

Dipper let out a frustrated growl. “—Bill, just. I know. I know. Bill. Keep an eye on the door, tell me if anything changes.” He was looking at the quibbling pair, eye on the verge of twitching. “You two. Sit down.”

“Dipper,” Tad began, and Dipper twisted his head around to look at him, gritting his fangs together. Whatever Tad was going to say died in his throat, and the banging got  _ louder.  _ So loud that Dipper thought he could feel the house beginning to shake.

“You and Resolved, too.” The vampires shuffled in, tension blossoming between the two with each step. “Mabel, next time you even  _ think  _ of saying something derogatory, pretend you have some civil decency. Nobody here cares about how offended you are.”

Mabel recoiled, lips forming a pout. “That is  _ entirely  _ unfair. Look what you’re living with.”

“If you don’t shut up, I’m gonna burn you where you sit,” Gideon growled at her.

Tad straightened, ready to speak, but Dipper cut him off. “You, calm down. Gideon, shut up. All of you  _ shut up.” _

“Even me?” Bill called from the hallway, poking his head in. Dipper squeezed his eyes shut.

“ _ Bill,” _ Dipper snapped, and the human quieted, sliding out of view. “Does anyone know what that banging is?”

The banging in question had gotten loud enough that it echoed off the walls, hollow and desperate. It sounded like a thousand hands were pummeling the sides of the house, scraping along the windows and tearing at the roof—a high, thin, rage-laden wail masquerading as wind pierced the air.

“Some kind of magic,” Gideon told Dipper, pressing a hand over one of his ears. Blood was staining his chin, still dripping from his split lip. “Trying to break the protection on the house. Won’t happen, but it’s sure as hell annoyin’ to listen to.”

Mabel worked her jaw, glaring at Gideon but saying nothing. Dipper crossed his arms over his chest, looking down at the wooden table. He didn’t like the idea of staying in the house—but if he left, and was  _ killed,  _ anyone could get into the house. No one needed permission if the host of the house was dead. 

It hadn’t taken long for Dipper to decide that they needed to visit the address that Bill had found—the thought of leaving it any longer, leaving Bill in  _ danger  _ any longer, was gnawing at him like a particularly annoying zombie. Not to mention that Bill had a  _ job  _ that wouldn’t buy excuses forever. Life-threatening situations involving supernatural entities, while a pressing issue, were never accepted as good reasons to call in.

In the midst of Dipper’s silent meditation, the noise had begun to die down. In turn, Gideon’s and Mabel’s voices had rose, once again bickering with each other. Dipper pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to think over them—if he left, and perished, then anyone could get into his house. Meaning anyone could get to  _ Bill.  _ That was, unless—

“Gideon, I need you to help me with something before we leave.”

“Leave? We aren’t leaving,” Tad told him firmly. 

Dipper shrugged. “Then I guess before  _ I _ leave. I’m not going to sit here any longer being harassed by the equivalent of a toddler throwing a tantrum.”

Gideon rose from his seat, sparing a vengeful look at Mabel. Dipper snapped his fingers, getting his attention. 

“Stop.” He turned his head toward the hallway. “Bill, come in here.”

The human came like a loyal hound, bare feet padding across the floor. Dipper offered him a smile when he saw the human’s toes flexing against the cold wood. He was pressing up the pads of his feet to kiss Bill before he could stop himself, and Bill chuckled.

“Hello,” Bill greeted brightly, pressing their noses together.

“Hey,” Dipper murmured. He turned to Gideon who looked half-worried, half-pissed. “If you keep looking at me like that, I’m going to assume you can read my mind,” Dipper told him dryly.

“Ain’t hard to tell what you’re going to do,” Gideon answered bitterly.

Bill looked between the two of them, confused. When no one answered, he cleared his throat and slid an arm around Dipper’s waist. He eyed Mabel and Tad across from them, shrinking back from their gaze.

“What is he going to do?” Bill inquired when no answer was immediately offered. 

Mabel answered before Gideon did, almost smugly. “Easy. I suppose not easy for you to figure out, being  _ human  _ and all.”

“What did I say about being offensive?” Dipper snapped. He grabbed Bill’s hand, flipping it over so his palm faced upward. “I’m just taking precautions.” Dipper pretended not to notice Bill sticking his tongue out defiantly at Mabel, and her resounding hiss. 

“What are you going to do?” Bill asked, blinking down at Dipper with an utterly sweet, hopelessly naïve expression. 

“I’m going to mix my blood with yours,” Dipper told him, feeling the human’s hand tense. “So if anything bad happens to me, the magic of the house won’t die, and you’ll still be safe within it.”

Bill made a soft, panicked noise. “But, uh, won’t that turn me into a vampire?” Bill asked, hand beginning to shake. Dipper could feel every person in the room roll their eyes. 

“No, Bill. In order to become a vampire, you have to be on the verge of death before sharing blood with a vampire. And you have to be bitten. There’s venom involved.” Dipper held his hand out to Gideon, who grabbed it—the pathologists’ hands were clammy and cold, and Dipper gave them a soft squeeze.

“So, what’s his role in this?” Bill asked, looking at Gideon with haunted curiosity.

“Make sure everything goes smoothly,” Gideon replied, turning Dipper’s hand palm up. “Plus, you need a blade or something to cut through Dipper’s skin—he doesn’t bleed as easily as we do.” 

“You aren’t seriously thinking about leaving by yourself?” Tad questioned as Gideon pulled out a switchblade; Bill looked down at it, cocking an eyebrow, obviously unsure about its presence. “Why bring us here at all if you won’t listen to us?”

“I didn’t bring you here for advice, I brought you here to protect Bill,” Dipper replied dryly, pursing his lips as he felt the blade slide across his palm. There was no pain, and very little blood welled where the knife cut—but it was enough.

“And who said he was going alone?” Resolved rumbled out, almost threateningly.

Mabel narrowed her eyes, then let them fall to look at her hands. 

“Tad, you need to go with him,” Mabel told him. “My brother will get himself killed running off by himself—”

“—And what, leave you to stay here with Gideon?” Dipper asked, gripping Bill’s hand tighter when the human began to shake. Gideon was hovering over the human’s hand with the bloodied blade.

Gideon turned his head toward Dipper. “Who said I was stayin’ here?”

“Someone has to stay with Bill. Just in case,” Dipper said.

“You don’t have anything, do you?” Bill asked, completely distant from the rest of the conversation, eyes focused on the knife. “Life already sucks, I really don’t need an STD.”

Gideon pet at his hand gently, mindlessly comforting him.

Bill let out an uncertain noise, slightly tugging away from Dipper. “I am so not okay with this, Dipper. Is there anything else that we can do, or—”

“—Why don’t  _ you  _ stay with your boyfriend?” Gideon asked, steadying Bill’s hand, ignoring his complaints.

“Because I’m not a fleshy meat bag.” Dipper’s voice was dry and unamused.

Bill wrenched his hand away with a great heave, teetering backward and away from Gideon and Dipper. Both looked at him with mild surprise, and Dipper noticed the human was hyperventilating. 

“ _ Stop ignoring me,” _ Bill got out, bracing himself against the nearby wall. “What is even going on? What are you all  _ talking  _ about? Can someone take two seconds to let me process this before they start cutting me open with illegal weapons?”

Gideon looked at his knife, frowning. 

“Yes, they’re  _ illegal.  _ I work in a school,” Bill told him. “If you go out there and don’t come back, what’s the  _ point  _ of transferring the house’s weird safety over to me?”

“The point is that you might still have the chance to live,” Tad supplied. “Dipper is making this decision because he values your life over his—don’t disrespect him by saying something so crass.”  

Bill opened his mouth to say something, then closed it and looked down at his feet. Dipper stepped forward, laying a hand on Bill’s shoulder. The human didn’t look at him, bottom lip pressed out in an unintentional pout. 

“Bill,” Dipper told him gently in a whisper; he was aware that the other vampires could hear him, but Bill wasn’t. “Do you want to know a secret?” 

“What?” Bill whispered back, lips close enough to Dipper’s face that he could feel the human’s lips against his cheek. 

“I believe,” Dipper told him, kissing Bill’s cheek. He pulled back to look at Bill, happy to see not confusion, but realisation on the human’s face. Bill closed his eyes and pressed their foreheads together.

“Thank God, I thought I was the only one who believed in the Sasquatch,” Bill muttered out, getting a snort from Resolved. Cracking open an eye, his bad one, Bill caught Dipper’s gaze. “Do you really?”

“I do. Really,” Dipper told him. Bill easily let Dipper pull away completely, sighing inwardly in relief when Bill offered his hand. “Don’t worry, I might be a grumpy old corpse, but—” He paused looking over at Mabel, whose eyes were large. A hand was pressed to her mouth, and Dipper rolled his eyes. “—Let’s get this over with before she passes out. Jesus, Mabel.”

“It’s just so  _ romantic,” _ Mabel breathed. 

“Shut  _ up. _ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys!
> 
> My beta is the beautiful EmberGlows!
> 
> Song for this chapter:  
> Dawn by Dario Marianelli, Jean-Yves Thibaudet
> 
> Want to stay updated? Click [here](http://everyday-im-preaching.tumblr.com/) to stay in the know!


	37. All Saints' Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys!  
> I just wanted to leave a note here to remind you that I would really love to know if you're enjoying this story! I do a lot of research and spend a lot of time writing on my fics, so it'd mean the world if you'd comment below!
> 
> PSA: I AM DOING NANO THIS YEAR. YOU HEARD RIGHT.   
> Nanowrimo! So I may or may not be posting chapters this month.   
> Thank you for your patience!

 

It took forever to convince Bill to let him go—Dipper gave him at least a dozen kisses, whispering promises of return against his mouth, their bloodied hands clutched together. Dipper managed to convince both Gideon and Mabel to stay behind to protect Bill, despite Resolved’s warning that all they would do is fight.

“Do you think they’ll be okay?” Resolved asked, tucking his hands into a borrowed jacket. Both he and Tad had all but begged to step out of the house first, and now that they were outside, they were surveying the area with cautious, paranoid squinting.

Dipper pushed past them, heading toward his car. “They’ll be fine. Or at least  _ Bill  _ will be. The other two might tear each other’s throats out, and I’ll have to clean up blood off the floor again.” He fished out his keys, unlocking the driver’s side door and jerking it open.

On the other side of the car, Tad and Resolved were both eyeing the passenger seat. Neither moved, however. Dipper slammed his hand on the roof of the car, and they both jumped.

“Get in the fucking car,” Dipper told them, before sliding inside. Resolved went to take the front, and something flashed in Tad’s eyes—but he seemed to accept the decision, because he was slipping into the back without a word. “Ready to go, kids?” Dipped asked sarcastically, starting the car.

“Yes, mum,” Resolved responded cheekily. Dipper shot him a glare, and the older vampire held up his hands in mock defence. “You brought your gun, I assume?”

Dipper nodded. “Both of them. There should be some stakes in the glove department.” 

“You keep stakes in your vehicle?” Tad’s tone was incredulous. Dipper shrugged as he pulled away from the curb. “ _ Why _ ?” 

“Because there are often… dissenters,” Resolved replied, clicking his seatbelt into place. “It is easier to stake them and leave them outside the city than to fight them.”

Dipper flicked his eyes over to look at Resolved. “We’re supposed to be leaving them outside the city?” he asked dryly. “I’ve just been giving them to Gideon to put in the incinerator.”

The noise of outrage that came from both vampires in the vehicle was music to Dipper’s ears, and he relaxed against his seat. He went to fiddle with the radio, ignoring their protests for the most part.

“That is horrifyingly barbaric—you burn them because they don’t want to play house with you?” Tad demanded. 

Resolved, who had looked like he was about to lecture Dipper, turned to Tad instead.

“We aren’t playing house,” he told the elder vampire, twisting in his seat. “We’re trying to make a society of vampires that can live alongside humans without being noticed. You’re the barbaric ones, enslaving and murdering humans whenever you like.”

“Murdering vampires is a far cry from murdering humans,” Tad argued. “You are a vampire.”

“And we were once human,” Resolved told him, narrowing his eyes.

Dipper snorted, looking outside of his window. Dusk was quickly falling over the city, smoothing shadows over city streets and darkening corners. The bickering beside and behind him rose and fell in waves, lifting his spirits.

A hand landed on his shoulder, and he turned his head partially to acknowledge whomever was touching him.

“Do you love him?” It was Tad. There was no doubt in Dipper’s mind that he was talking about Bill.

Dipper shrugged the hand off, focusing his eyes on the road. “Don’t be ridiculous,” he started, taking a sharp turn. “I’ve loved him for over a hundred years now. I don’t plan on stopping now, not after all this time.”

A soft laugh left Resolved, and he settled back against his seat. Tad was leaning forward, having forgone his seatbelt and deigning to sit in the middle.

“The heart is never swayed that easily,” Resolved told Dipper, smiling at the younger vampire. “I have to admit, even though I know of your faith in the Book of Iscariot, I never thought I’d see you fall as hard, so quickly.”

Tad, whether oblivious to Resolved or blatantly ignoring him, didn’t recognise his statement. “Would you ever consider having him turned? Not by you, naturally, but perhaps by another?”

A low, disquieted hum left Dipper. He shrugged, wringing the steering wheel between his fingers. The leather squeaked in the cabin, lost amongst the sound of some shitty pop song pouring out of the cars speakers.

“I think… I think it’s inevitable,” Dipper eventually said, furrowing his brow. “Someday, I’m going to want him to be with me forever—and maybe someday will be tomorrow, or next week, or next  _ year.  _ But I think it’s going to happen, unless he’s dead set against it.”

Resolved snorted, leaning against the car door. “As if that would ever happen.”

“Seconded. Humans find us too romantic to deny the opportunity to be one,” Tad agreed, sitting back. He crossed his arms over his chest, lips pursed. “That leads me to my next question, Dipper. You said that you believed, that’s what you told him. That means you believe in the word of the book, correct? That he is the holder of your soul.”

Dipper nodded. “Yeah, I’m certain of it.” He flexed his fingers again. “I mean, you knew you loved Mabel from the moment you saw her, or whatever. You followed your gut, and you’re still kissing her ass and licking her boots. It’s like that.”

“I noticed,” Tad said, voice dry and unamused. Beside Dipper, Resolved was trying not to smile. “The reason for your adoration, however, is what concerns me. Is it not that he contains your soul that you love him? If he’s changed, then your soul will flee him. What then? Will you no longer hold the same feelings? What is left for you to love?”

“That’s not it. That’s not what I’m in love with,” Dipper snapped instantly. “It’s not about that, and it never has been. If anything, it’s more of a marker. A lead.”

Dipper shifted back against his seat, willing himself to calm down. “If you remember, I was in love with Mary long before I learned about the book, and the… religion.” His shoulder slumped downward, and he suddenly felt incredibly vulnerable. “His smile has never changed. It’s always the same mouth, the same lips. The same  _ laugh. _ Bill may be in a new body with new goals and a new past, but he’s still the person I fell in love with forever ago. It’s….” Dipper sighed. “…As I said, I’ve loved him this long. I don’t think having him a vampire, having him beside me for the rest of eternity—I really don’t think it’ll change how I feel. Soulless or not. I’m just attached at this point.”

“That’s cute,” Resolved told him, and Dipper let out a low growl at him. Resolved chuckled, shaking his head. “You can be upset at the classification, but that is  _ very  _ cute. I feel bad for stepping in between you two, in our brief foray.”

“Don’t be, he was probably, like, two at the time,” Dipper said sarcastically. He pointed at Tad, but didn’t look at him. “Don’t you dare tell Mabel. I don’t need her hanging all over me.”

“Consider your secret safe, brother,” Tad told Dipper with a flash of fangs in the mirror. Dipper inwardly cursed at himself.  _ Great. _

 

The address led them to an old, towering Victorian home that was painted the most delicate shade of eggshell blue Dipper had ever seen. He recoiled at the sight of it, face twisting in distaste.

“I didn’t know that we were fighting a grandma,” Dipper muttered. The others said nothing in response, going down the neatly kept stone path leading to the door. 

“Do you think we should knock?” Resolved teased, opening the screen door. He tried the doorknob next, eyebrows shooting up to hover near his hairline when the door swung open. “Does anyone lock their doors anymore?”

“Vampires don’t have much to fear from intruders,” Tad reminded, following Resolved into the home.

Dipper rolled his eyes, following suit. “Frankly, I lock my door because I don’t want to be robbed,” he stated, stepping over the threshold and peering inside—and ran right into Resolved, who had turned on his heel, back toward the entrance. “What’s your problem?” Dipper snapped, pushing past him and into the living room.

_ Oh.  _ A small, choked noise left Dipper as he took in the space. Disregarding the small TV in the corner, and the overall blue monochromatic colour scheme of the room, Dipper could take in the actual thing that made the area unsettling

It was the  _ dolls.  _ There were curios and corner cabinets sitting along the walls, all laden down with  _ dolls.  _ Some were porcelain, some were plastic, and some looked like an odd sort of glass that Dipper didn’t recognise. However, they were all very, very realistic. Their eyes shone with a burning, intense knowledge—it was as if painted lips held secrets and stiff, plastic fingers were itching to reach out for the party.

Somewhere, deep in the house—deeper than Dipper wanted to go—the sound of music reached him. It was soft and rolled off the singer’s tongue in the eeriest of ways, making what little blood Dipper had go cold.

“We could just burn it down,” Dipper suggested, rolling his shoulders in an attempt to dislodge the uneasiness that had settled there. His voice jerked like a fish caught on the end of a line, unsure of where to step next. Tad shook his head, tilting his head to the side and listening carefully.

“Someone’s in the shower,” he murmured. “Listening to  _ Aimé  _ by Loane? Odd music to shower to, but you have to give them credit for their good taste.”

Dipper cocked an eyebrow, grabbing Resolved by the arm and dragging him further inside. “You know that song? Why would you know that song?”

Tad gave him an unimpressed look. “I have lived in France for roughly a hundred years now. I like to embrace the culture.” He continued through the home, stepping into the spotless kitchen.

“Come  _ on,  _ Resolved. They’re dolls,” Dipper grunted, hauling him forward, past the ever-open eyes.

“You’re not going to be saying that when they come to life,” Resolved hissed, shuffling past them and giving them a wary berth.

Dipper shoved the older vampire past him, shaking his head. “You are one of the scariest things  _ alive,  _ Resolved. If you’re scared, get into the kitchen already and leave me to the dolls.”

“Gladly,” Resolved muttered, shuffling into the kitchen. Dipper turned to take one last look at the living room, letting his eyes wander over the collection of dolls. He shuddered, and turned to follow Resolved—just in time for a set of windowed doors he hadn’t seen to slam in his face, rattling the glass panes.

“Oh, fuck no,” Dipper hissed, instantly trying the handle. It didn’t budge, even when he put all his strength against it. Behind him, he heard the familiar grating of porcelain grinding against porcelain, and he gritted his teeth. On the other side of the door, Resolved turned around, and Dipper swore he saw the vampire pale.

Dipper held up a hand, and shook his head.

“Just, don’t,” Dipper told Resolved, hoping that he could be heard. “Go ahead. I’ll deal with…” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder, not wanting to look as he heard a particularly large  _ thud  _ as something hit the ground. “…Whatever that was.” 

Resolved mouthed  _ dolls  _ at him, and Dipper nodded.

“I know,” Dipper replied, slowly turning around—and instantly letting out a pained grunt at what he saw before him. Two of the heavier dolls had crawled off of bottom shelves, and were now clumsily getting to their feet. “That’s just… this is just… I don’t know who lives here, but that’s just really fucking creepy.”

It was as if the dolls had all heard him; every single one of their heads turned to look at him, some of them cracking sharply. Dipper curled his fingers into tight fists, before nodding. He squared up his shoulders, and they fell instantly when the dolls on the floor got to their feet, beginning to wobbly toddle toward him. Their porcelain heads cracked along their jaws, creating sharp, fang-like teeth that gnashed menacingly.

Dipper didn’t wait a second longer, foot connecting sharply with one’s torso, sending it flying across the room. An angered screech welled up inside the room, loud enough that Dipper had to cover his ears. He stumbled back against the door, wincing.

He took a deep breath, and then swore again. “Should’ve brought Gideon.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, it's me--
> 
> My beta is the omnipotent EmberGlows!
> 
> Song for this chapter:  
> Devil by Tyler Glenn
> 
> Want to stay updated? Click [here](http://everyday-im-preaching.tumblr.com/) to stay in the know!


	38. Shotgun Shack

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the delay on this chapter--Nano and work and all of that's made me half crazy. So, you know. I feel half dead. But I'm older now, and apparently wiser, so I've got that going for me.
> 
> Please, please, please leave a comment if you enjoy! I know that sometimes it's hard to think of something to say, but it really helps me write, when I know people are enjoying this fic, and are taking the time to engage with me. I hate begging for comments, but not even an eighth of the people subscribed to this story take the time to comment, and its disheartening to the point where sometimes I don't even want to work on the next chapter.
> 
> Thank you for reading this! If you did, that is.

 

_“And the LORD Almighty will shield them._

_They will destroy and overcome with slingstones._

_they will drink and roar as with whine;_

_They will be full like a bowl used for sprinkling the corners of the altar.”_

_-Zechariah 9:15_

 

It didn’t take long for Dipper to decide that dolls were his least favourite thing to fight. As soon as one had been dispatched, another plastic monstrosity was freeing itself from inside a cabinet or from a shelf. And they certainly didn’t _break_ easy. Behind him, Resolved had grabbed Tad’s attention—now both of the elder vampires were trying to break down the door that was currently separating the group.

“I can’t tell,” Dipper began, fully aware that he was talking to himself. “If this magic was crafted to thwart us, or if it’s simply a home invasion deterrent.” He kicked at another doll, and sent it sprawling across the room; its nose came off with an almost sickening crack, but the doll didn’t explode like its fellow combatants.

Joints which had been knocked out of place, snapped back from whence they came, and the doll was back on its feet within seconds. Dipper pointed at it. “Fuck you in particular. In fact, fuck all of you and your string-built buddies.”

The doll’s limbs clacked together once again, and meticulously jointed fingers reached out toward Dipper as the doll wobbled across the floor. Dipper kicked the door behind him, pressing his back against the antique wood. Someone banged on the door in response, and Dipper felt it wiggle behind him.

“What kind of dolls are you, anyway?” Dipper asked, trying to reach for the handle behind him whilst keeping an eye on the possessed pieces of plastic. They clattered and clacked at them, closing the gap between them. Dipper shot forward, bringing his heel down sharply on the closest one’s head. It cracked dully beneath his shoe.

Behind him, Dipper heard the door shake and creak, but when he turned, he felt something sharp dig into his lower leg; he didn’t crumble, but he yowled, kicking his leg out and sending the remnants of the doll that he’d stepped on fly across the room. An s-hook was sticking out of his leg.

“Come, Dipper,” Resolved hissed out, eyes flicking across the room—the dolls had paused in their attempted murder, now blankly staring at a _very_ distraught Resolved. “Before they wake up again.”

“I hate to agree with him, but I’d rather not sit here and watch you fight toys for another twenty minutes,” Tad said, expression barely troubled. Dipper reached down and yanked the hook free, wincing only slightly at the pain before tossing the thing away. He made it to the door in record time, feeling relief swell in him as the door was slammed shut and relocked by Resolved.

Dipper ran a hand through his hair, stretching out his already healing leg. “That was fun.”

“I noticed you having a blast in there,” Tad told him, folding his arms behind his back. Dipper narrowed his eyes, but said nothing, following behind the senior vampire. “We need to find the owner of the home, or at the very least, some clues.”

“A clue?” Dipper questioned, turning to face a short cabinet. It was shorter than him, even. He cocked his head to the side, pursing his lips and letting his brows relax. Some small, benign statues of a goddess with her head bowed were placed upon it, all serene and peaceful—yet they smelled of blood, carefully smeared over the back of all places.

It was almost like a mini shrine; there was the lingering scent of incense, a small, black book, and several gold, shimmering coins in a bowl. Dipper didn’t want to disturb anything there, but he couldn’t identify the religious figure without further inspection.

“I’m guessing creepy shrines don’t count?” Dipper asked, kneeling in front of the cabinet. There was a set of knock-off, porcelain dishes inside that looked well-used.

“Depends on whom the shrine has been constructed for. Does it look like it belongs to a cult, a witch, or a daft human?” Tad’s question came from the other side of the room, and Dipper heard the sound of cabinet doors opening.

Dipper turned his head this way and that, humming slightly. “I don’t recognize the deity, but it’s not Mother Mary.” He pulled at the cabinet door, and it gave easily. Taking a quick look inside, he confirmed it was nothing but dishes. He stood and brushed at his knees, shedding tiny pieces of porcelain onto the faded tile floor. “I would say cult, judging by the blood.”

“I could believe a cult member with a doll collecting hobby,” Resolved stated, looking up at the ceiling. “I think this house is nearly as old as yours, Dipper. It has a similar feel to it—I can’t place what it is, however.”

Tad didn’t miss a beat.

“It’s small. Cramped. It’s a Victorian that was built with the narrowness of a shotgun shack.” He strode across the kitchen, coming to a tight-cornered staircase that was covered in powder blue carpet. Tad turned to the other vampires and pointed upward. “The music is coming from up here.”

“Not everyone needs to dramatically sweep their arms out every time they enter a room, Tad,” Dipper snapped, crossing the room to the elder vampire. “This isn’t an undead version of The Sopranos.”

“It could be, considering the mess this entire thing has become,” Tad told him, eyes boring into Dipper. “A mess that you have propagated.”

Resolved cleared his throat, interrupting the two. “We have little time to argue—this isn’t as simple as protecting Bill—we have reason to believe that the person after Dipper’s lover is the same person who’s creating feral fledglings.”

Tad’s brows furrowed together, and Resolved nodded, lips twitching but not fully twisting up into a smile.

“That, at least, should be something to concern yourself with.”

“Why didn’t you tell me there were ferals?” Tad demanded, taking a step toward Dipper. Dipper stepped backward in tandem, meeting Tad’s gaze and not giving an inch. “That changes everything.”

Dipper’s lips turned down, mocking in their faux, thoughtful frown. “I told Mabel.” Gritted teeth and a low hiss from Tad had Dipper chuckling, shaking his head. Resolved looked between the two, unsure of the situation. Dipper shrugged his shoulders, before smiling at Tad. “I guess she’s not entirely forthcoming, is she? Surprise, surprise.”

Tad opened his mouth to snap something in return, but was interrupted by a shrill scream and a low curse. All three vampires snapped their heads to the sound of the scream—a human stood frozen in the entryway, one towel clutched to their chest whilst another was wrapped around their hair.

“I…I…” The person swallowed, and then offered a muted, terrified smile. “…I suppose you have…questions—”

They didn’t get to finish their sentence, because _Dipper_ shoved past Tad, knocking his brother-in-law to the side. One of his hands closed around the human’s throat, not tight enough to choke them, but enough to make every breath he drew in a struggle.

“You must be Sydney,” Dipper intoned, cocking his head to the side and bearing his fangs. Sydney tried to wince away, but was pinned in place. Dipper scented the air, finding no scent of decay in the air besides that of himself, Resolved, and Tad. _Not a vampire._

Sydney’s eyes darted between the three, looking for a sympathetic face but finding none. “Yes, I… That is I. But I prefer to go by Syd,” they rasped out, wiggling slightly in Dipper’s grip.

Dipper narrowed his eyes. His voice was cold when he spoke, toneless and unforgiving. “Do you think I care what you prefer?” Sydney looked at Dipper for a moment, breathing shallow and eyes wet. They shook their head, and Dipper marveled for just a moment at the androgynous quality of the creature in his grip. But only for a moment.

“I’m going to ease my grip—and you’re going to tell me exactly what’s going on. With Bill, with the ferals— _all of it._ Everything you know.” Dipper’s mouth barely moved, but his hand squeezed lightly, getting Sydney to choke and struggle, clawing at Dipper’s hand. “And if you cooperate, I might not decide to redecorate your house with your intestines.”

Sydney scrabbled at Dipper’s wrist, and the vampire let him suffer for a bit longer before releasing his grip so that it was merely firm. “ _Amante,_ save me,” Sydney whimpered, blue eyes wide and wet. “I, ah. What would you like to know first?”

“The ferals,” Tad interjected before Dipper could speak. “Where are they coming from? Who’s creating them?”

“ _Him,_ ” Sydney responded instantly. “I don’t know his name, I wish I did. He wouldn’t give it to me, he was afraid I’d hex him, if I got his real name.” They swallowed as fingers twitched against their skin. “He calls himself the Shepherd.”

Dipper arched an eyebrow, and Sydney nodded. “I know, stupid name. I swear, I was employed under threat of death. Great duress, as it were. He threatened me with death, with something worse than death—erasure.” Sydney was now clinging to Dipper’s wrist, as if it were a lifeline. “You don’t know the magnitude of what _he_ will do to me.”

“Help us understand,” Resolved soothed, voice mellow and calm. It smoothed over the panicked witch’s nerves, and Sydney nodded.

“The Shepherd is a vampire. He has… a compound.” Sydney swallowed, continuing to nod to reassure themselves. “The best way to explain what it does, is it removes them. It erases them—their entire existence, the chance at an afterlife, their _soul._ It’s gone—sometimes it takes days, sometimes weeks or months.”

“Bullshit,” Dipper stated.

“I wish it was, but I’ve seen it,” Sydney argued, nails digging into Dipper’s arm. “What would I get by lying? If you don’t kill me, the Shepherd will.” The human swallowed, eyes darting back around to look at the faces watching him. “But the compound—that’s just a tool that he had intended to use to distract you from Bill. It can turn any vampire feral, when applied to the bloodstream—I’m not sure how, but it’s terrifying.”

Sydney shuddered, shoulders jerking and fingers twitching against the steps.

“The ferals were meant to be a diversion. A threat to get the lot of you under his thumb—or it was supposed to be. And then Manisa jumped the gun, decided to flee with that human woman of hers instead of following through with the plan.”

Dipper stared at Sydney for a moment, before letting his hand drop away. “This Shepherd—he got to Calhoun too, didn’t he?” The human nodded in response, and Dipper swore. Not looking at Sydney, Dipper spoke. “What does he want with Bill? What does Bill have that’s worth risking the entire human race finding out about vampires?”

“The Arc,” Sydney responded, voice soft and certain. They inspected Dipper’s face. “He wants the Arc—I don’t know what it is, I don’t know what it does, but he wants it.” Sydney furrowed their brow. “And Bill knows—Bill knows, and he’s pretending he doesn’t. I know you believe him and his… amnesia. That shitty excuse—he thinks it’s going to save him, but if Shepherd can’t get the information from Bill, he’ll kill him.”

Sydney popped up off the stairs, causing Dipper to stumble backward. “He’ll kill Bill, Dipper. Because then there’d only be Jolene, and she doesn’t want that. And neither does the Shepherd—when two immovable forces run into one another, one will give, and if or when that happens, we’re _fucked._ Do you hear me? _Fucked._ ” Sydney’s hands were clenched into fists as he stared at the vampire opposite him. "We all lose, if Jolene or the Shepard gets the Arc. And they will." 

“Jolene?” Both Tad and Resolved questioned the name, but for separate reasons. Resolved was questioning her involvement, whilst Tad was questioning who she was.

“Bill and Jolene know where the Arc is. But the Shepherd has the means to collect it.” Sydney was shaking now. “One will get the Arc, in the end. But all will use it to destroy.”

Dipper stepped forward, watching as Sydney stepped backward, his foot hovering above the bottom step. “Where is this Shepherd?”

Sydney smiled brokenly at him.

“The best thing for you can do for Bill,” Sydney began, lifting a hand to tap at the corner of their mouth. “Is to kill him yourself—” Sydney cocked their head to the side, letting their eyes wander to look at something far off. “—But it looks like someone’s attempting to do it for you.”

“Wait—” Dipper launched forward, gripping at nothing as Sydney disappeared—not in pieces, but as a single entity; a thin piece of chalk, broken and jagged, rocked on the fourth or fifth step up. The tip was partially bloody, but nothing else seemed off about it. Dipper swung his head to look at Tad, who looked nearly as concerned as Dipper—but there was the faintest hint of a smile curling at the edge of his lips. “What did she do—Tad, God as my witness, if Mabel’s done anything to Bill. _Anything._ ”

“I’ve nothing to say,” Tad replied, face just as amicable as it had been before they’d entered the home. “After all, Mabel is terrible at communicating her ideas, isn’t she? She’s not entirely… _forthcoming_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys!
> 
> My beta is the lovely EmberGlows
> 
> Song for this chapter:  
> Haunted by Evanescence 
> 
> Want to stay updated? Click [here](http://everyday-im-preaching.tumblr.com/) to stay in the know!


	39. You Can Say I'm Raising the Stakes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! Back to our scheduled programming. 
> 
> If you enjoy this chapter, please leave a comment below! Feedback is important!

 

Dipper was out of the house before anymore could be said, nearly flinging himself from the top steps and ignoring his car completely in favour of running across the city. He barely had the mind to avoid humans, almost forgetting that it was still daylight. Dipper shuffled through what little shadows there were, slipping into alleys and behind abandoned buildings in his flight, finding himself  _ praying  _ that Bill was okay.

The hallway was empty, when Dipper entered his home. The door to the living room was shut and missing a handle; turning his head to the right, Dipper froze in his tracks. The bloody, staked body of his sister was in a crumpled heap on the floor. The stake in question wasn’t wooden, but  _ silver,  _ gleaming in the light filtering through the curtains.

“Oh my  _ god,” _ Dipper whispered, furrowing his brown in pained confusion. He drew his bottom lip into his mouth, about to wonder aloud at whether or not she was  _ dead.  _ Instead, he turned toward the living room door. He could smell both Bill and Gideon on the other side.

He pushed at the door, noticeably shocked as it easily gave away. “Bill? Gideon?” Dipper called their names quietly, as if he were afraid to wake them. Both of their hearts were steady and pulsing in Dipper’s ears, even if their breaths were uneven.

Gideon was hunched over Bill’s body, baring his teeth at Dipper for a brief series of seconds—long enough to realise who’d entered the room. His lips fell, and so did his shoulders, body slumping down and away from Bill. 

Bill was unkempt, but not in an unnatural way—there was, however, blood on both his lips and a familiar puncture wound on his neck. 

“Lord have mercy,” Gideon whispered, voice raw and tired. Blood was weeping from a nasty cut over his eyebrow and was smeared over his cheek like paint on stark canvas. “Dipper, I… I had to do it, darling. You don’t understand—”

Dipper was kneeling in front of him before he could finish, taking the human’s head in his hands. “Are you okay?” He asked, pushing messy bangs from Gideon’s face the best he could. Gideon opened his mouth to answer, before nodding. “Tell me what happened.”

“Mabel, she… I turned my back for one second, and when I turned around she had Bill cornered, right? Saying something about how it’d be better in the long run and all, if he was a vampire. He protested, and I went to yank her away, cause that ain’t her choice.” His voice was getting progressively less shaky as he spoke. “She took a swing at me, clocked me real good—had her fangs in Bill before my ears stopped ringing.”

“You took a hit from Mabel and survived?” Dipper asked, impressed.

Gideon shrugged, keeping himself humble. “It ain’t bone and skin holding this old body together anymore. No feeble-fisted immortal’s going to take me down.” He steadied himself, casting a look at Bill. “I don’t know if she was really going to change him, but I wasn’t going to let any of that sort of nonsense happen.”

Dipper nodded, and Gideon continued.

“So I get her off of ‘im, and he just faints dead away—” Dipper must have looked ready to panic, because Gideon held up a hand. “—Wasn’t from blood loss. Think it was from fear. He did hit the kitchen table hard, but it wasn’t nothin’ too damaging.”

A soft snort escaped Dipper, and he shook his head. He shifted so he could get a better look at Bill; the human looked at peace, when he was asleep. It was the kind of beautiful that Dipper could get used to seeing in and around his life.

“Sounds like him,” Dipper muttered softly, laying a hand on Bill’s leg. “So, you staked Mabel?”

Gideon nodded, lifting his hands to show Dipper the blood on his palms. “I grabbed the first thing I saw—you left that jacket of yours laying about, and I saw the stakes before I saw the gun in there.”

“You know, you probably killed her. Again,” Dipper said, tilting his head to the side. He had focused his eyes on the rise and fall of Bill’s chest, never happier to see it. Somewhere, deep in his chest, rage was building. But he was trying to ignore it, for the situation’s sake.

Gideon didn’t have the decency to look guilty.

“That was the intention,” Gideon all but hissed, fingers curling into fists and biting into his palms. “I hope she’s dead and burning in hell where she  _ belongs.” _

“You’re going to be changing your tune when Tad finds out,” Dipper told him, getting up briefly to move to the other side of Bill. “He’s still lost a fair amount of blood.” The vampire let out an uncertain noise, but nodded. “Thank you for saving him.”

“You’re welcome, doll,” Gideon replied, keeping his voice quiet. “I’d never let anything bad happen to him.” He took a turn to look at Bill, nodding. “He’s pretty cute. And really innocent, for his age.”

Dipper’s face twisted into a scowl as he remembered what Sydney had said. And then he banished it, pretending that the memory was melting from his ears like candlewax. He didn’t even know who Sydney was—there was no reason to believe him about Bill. No matter that he was right about Mabel.

“The address led us to a witch,” Dipper told Gideon. “Who enchanted their doll collection to murder intruders.”

“Who does that?” Gideon asked, head jerking back in disbelief.

Dipper shrugged. “I don’t know. A witch with a poor sense of humour and an even poorer sense of interior design.” He saw Bill’s brows twitch and draw together, and then relax. Dipper leaned over the human, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead.

The front door slammed open, and Dipper winced when he heard the doorknob crunch into the panelling of the wall. There was a half-strangled croak of Mabel’s name, then Tad thudded to a kneel in the hallway. Dipper nor Gideon said a word, simply staring at the destitute form of the elder vampire.

Tad slowly turned his head toward Dipper, lips raising in a snarl. Before he could move, however, Resolved came barrelling through the front door, tackling him fully to the ground. Gideon jerked backward, scrabbling toward the chair behind him. Dipper rose to a half crouch, nails digging into the flooring beneath him. 

“ _ You’re no longer welcome here,” _ Dipper hissed out, voice shaking like bones in a glass jar, words and syllables smacking against each other with a broken clacking. Tad let out a wordless howl, digging a set of claws into the floor. Something was tugging him backward toward the open door, giving him no time to grab at Resolved or anything else for that matter.

“ _ You. Are. Not. Welcome,” _ Dipper hissed again, stalking across the floor on all fours. “You will never be welcome here. Never again.”

An inhuman screech sawed through the air, and then Tad rolled out of the door and was tossed bodily into the street—Dipper thought briefly about the humans that occupied the houses on either side of him—and then forgot about it. It didn’t matter, one way or the other.

The door slammed behind Tad, and Dipper turned his head toward Resolved, and then the living room. Dipper grunted, never relaxing from his crooked, shambling, four-limbed gait. Gideon was pressed almost underneath the chair he’d been grabbing at, eyes wide and uncertain.

Resolved, looking worn out and bloody for unknown reasons, frowned. “Who staked her? Bill or Gideon?”

“Bill fainted. Gideon did it,” Dipper replied, kicking stained carpet back into place as he came to sit next to the body of his undead twin.

“Only way to find out if she’s still alive is to…” Resolved had gotten to his feet, shaky as they were. “…Well, pull out the stake.”

“Or we could put her in a bonfire,” Gideon suggested, voice snapping from lack of attention from Resolved. He turned toward the chubby man, a concerned frown curling the corners of his mouth downward.

“I feel as if I need to be brought up to speed,” Resolved said, gentle and reassuring. “Are you alright, darling? What happened?”

Dipper answered before Gideon could, now sitting next to Mabel. “Mabel tried to change Bill, and Gideon fought her off and staked her to prevent it.” He paused at the loud knocking that reverberated against the front door. It had to be Tad, demanding to be let back into the house. Dipper toyed with the idea for a moment, and then decided against it. He had enough to deal with.

Resolved nodded, finding the reply adequate. “Dipper, might I say something? And I mean no unkindness.”

“Yeah, shoot,” Dipper told him, picking up a splintered table leg. He proceeded to poke at Mabel’s side with it, looking more bemused than bothered. He shifted Mabel onto her back, cringing at the way her mouth was frozen open in a menacing, bloodied snarl. Dipper carefully closed her mouth, and then her eyes, not wanting to look at her anymore than he had too.

“Calling your sister was a  _ horrible  _ idea.”

Dipper snorted, moving her so that her head was sitting in his lap. He smoothed her brown, almost curly hair from her face so that it cascaded over his leg and ghosted the floor. Mabel was beautiful—she always had been the prettier of the two of them, and her beauty was no doubt why and how a vampire had become so enamoured with her.

Sleeping, Dipper could almost believe that she wasn’t a monster. He graced her forehead with a kiss as well, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. Resolved said nothing, simply watching as Dipper wiped both blood and tears from her face, even scrubbing at it gently with a saliva dampened sleeve.

“I… I’m sorry,” Resolved finally said, looking down at his feet. “She was still your sister.”

“She’s not dead,” Dipper said with a shrug.

Resolved cocked an eyebrow. “And how would you know? You haven’t pulled the stake out just yet. And it’s hard to get a pulse from a vampire, is it not?”

“It’s a twin thing,” Dipper answered. “If either of us died, the other would know. Immediately.” He reached a hand down, gripping the stake in his hand. The silver burned against Dipper’s palm, and he could feel the skin begin to bubble where it touched.

He gritted his teeth, and then nodded. “If anything happens, be ready to stop her,” Dipper told Resolved. The elder vampire righted himself in the doorway, and Dipper’s ears perked up at the sound of Bill shifting in the other room. He looked down at Mabel, offering her a plaintive smile. “Let’s make this quick.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi there!
> 
> Song for this fic:  
> Oh Oh Oh Sexy Vampire by Fright Ranger
> 
> My beta is EmberGlows!
> 
> Want to stay updated? Click [here](http://everyday-im-preaching.tumblr.com/) to stay in the know!


	40. Between Siblings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! I'm not feeling too good :/ I am really, really sick.  
> ...but you know what would cheer me up?  
> Comments on how you thought this chapter went!
> 
> Or, you know. Not being sick, aha.

_ Beloved, do not be surprised at the fiery trial when it comes upon you to test you,  _

_ as though something strange were happening to you. _

_ But rejoice insofar as you share Christ's sufferings, _

_ that you may also rejoice and be glad when his glory is revealed. _ __  
_  
_ __ -1 Peter 4:12-13

 

 

Dipper’s fingers burned where they held the stake, yet he did not relinquish his grip on it for a second. For all the talk of vampires hating silver, Mabel’s body refused to give the poisonous weapon up easily. Mabel’s face pinched and twisted in pain as the moulded silver was tugged from her body.

Eventually, the stake was pulled free and an abnormal amount of blood seeped into Mabel’s shirt; it was black and smelled of rot, and Dipper winced away from it—the silver had done this to her. No doubt the rest of her blood had been affected. Mabel would have to eat soon.

“Mabel?” Dipper called her name gently, pressing his palm to the side of her face. Mabel’s face pinched in distaste, and she turned her head away.

She was scowling, when she finally opened her eyes, focusing on a wall outlet opposite her. Dipper turned her head back towards him, not bothering to usher out the concern that had made a home on his face. Mabel’s eyebrows rose, and her expression softened.

“Brother?” she asked, voice soft. Dipper nodded at her, and a smile crossed bloody lips. “Oh, brother. I was not expecting such a kind, worried face from you.”

Dipper furrowed his brows, and let his lips turn into a frown. “What did you think you were doing? Going to change Bill?” His voice was colder than his eyes could ever be, and he saw Mabel flinch away. “Or were you trying to kill him? What were you trying to  _ do,  _ Mabel? What were you trying to accomplish?”

“Dipper, I…” Mabel’s voice cracked, and she looked back away. “…There was no malicious intent behind my actions—I was indeed attempting to change Bill.”

A disgusted scoff left Dipper, and one of Mabel’s hands came up to fist in his shirt. Even injured, her strength was too much to deny, and he came down to hover inches from her face. “I am tired of looking into your eyes and seeing…” He was yanked down further, eyes connecting with hers. She frowned. “…They’re so lonely, brother. You look so lonely. I did it  _ for  _ you, not to hurt you.”

“When will you learn that changing people without permission is a bad idea?” Dipper hissed the question out, holding out a hand to stop Resolved from intervening. He grabbed at her wrists, flexing his fingers around it. “It breeds  _ hate.  _ And  _ disgust.  _ You are turning people into monsters, Mabel.  _ Monsters. _ ”

“Then you two can hate me together,” Mabel spat, fangs bared and eyes flashing. “At least I know you will not spend eternity stewing by yourself.”

Dipper bared his fangs back. “It isn’t your choice.”

_ “It could have been,” _ Mabel seethed. “If that disgusting guard dog of yours hadn’t stepped in, it  _ could _ have been. I would have been doing you a favour—” She wrenched her hand free, reaching for Dipper’s throat. He ducked backwards, feeling her claws dig into his shoulder. “—And now he will die. And you will be left alone again, surrounded in nothing but your memories. And you will regret ever letting that filthy witch into your home.”

There was a moment of silence, and she thudded back against Dipper’s knees, letting go of his shoulder. She turned her head back toward the outlet. “So, is this where our story ends then, Mason? Is this where you kill me?”

Dipper snorted, and then leaned down to press his forehead against the side of hers. “Mabel, I’m not going to kill you,” he told her, closing his eyes. He heard Resolved shift away from the two. “I could never kill you. And for the record, I don’t hate you, either.” He cracked an eye open. “I could never hate you.”

Mabel’s chest hitched—not necessarily in breath, but in confused sorrow. “You?”

“I don’t hate you, Mabel. You’ve fucked up, and I’m never going to forgive you for it. First me, and then you attempt to change Bill—that’s not something I can forgive.” He tilted her head back toward him, catching her eyes once again. “In fact, I could never stop loving you, Mabel. I  _ love  _ you. You’re my sister. Nothing could ever change that.”

Dipper looked off, staring at Bill through the open, splintered door of the living room. “Just like I could never stop loving him. Even if everything I believe turns out to be a lie. Do you understand?”

Mabel hiccupped, and he could tell she was about to start sobbing. Wet eyes were pressed against his ruined jacket, and hands clung to him as he was turned into a human snot rag. Dipper rolled his eyes, rolling her off of his lap and onto the floor; he stepped back when she went to drag him back down.

“She needs to hunt,” Resolved mentioned, quiet and unsure of what had just transpired.

“I know. But I need to be with Bill when he wakes up,” Dipper told Resolved. “Keep an eye on her.”

“Wait, brother,” Mabel called out to him, face awash in affection and warmth. “Dipper, come back to me. I love you, too, so much, my  _ heart _ —can’t you see this is why I’ve done this?”

“I don’t care about your excuses,” Dipper said, looking at himself and the mess he’d become. “Bill is going to be ready to stake you himself, when he wakes up. So I’d suggest going out to hunt as soon as you’re able.”

“We must  _ speak—” _

Dipper cut her off once more. “Did I stutter? I have about a hundred other things to worry about, and you’re officially not one of them. Besides. Tad probably thinks you’re dead—you should probably remedy that.”

At the mention of her husband, Mabel was slowly getting to her feet.

“I suppose I should—where is he? I’m quite surprised that he’s not in this very room, sobbing over my body.” The popping of vertebrae had Dipper shuddering, and he watched as twisted limbs snapped back into place. “Dipper?”

“Outside. I kicked him out when he went after Gideon,” Dipper replied. 

Mabel hummed softly. “I feel that’s a little excessive,” she told him, brushing off her pants; she kicked the stake near her idly, sending it spinning across the room. 

“Get out of my house,” Dipper told her stiffly. “And come back when you’ve fed.”

 

Dipper had carried Bill upstairs, cleaning the mark on his neck and his lips with a warm washcloth. Now the man was neatly tucked into bed, slumbering quietly under Dipper’s watchful gaze.

“What are we going to do about you?” Dipper asked quietly, leaning over to kiss at his face for the umpteenth time. This time, however, Bill’s eyes flickered open to look at Dipper.

“Feels like I still have a heartbeat,” Bill murmured quietly, nuzzling at Dipper’s face. “You made it back in time to save me, huh?” The human turned his face, catching Dipper’s lips with his own.

“I didn’t,” Dipper told him, kissing him back, languid and soft. “Gideon saved you.”

Bill chuckled. “Should I be kissing him instead then?” 

“No. Definitely not,” Dipper said without pause. He closed his eyes, running his hands down the side of Bill’s face, and then neck. “I was so worried.”

“I was, too. No offence, but I’m not looking to join the undead just yet,” Bill told Dipper, wrapping a long arm around the vampire and tugging him down. “Maybe someday, if you sweeten the pot. But not yet.”

“What, you think you’re ever going to get more handsome than you are now?” Dipper asked playfully, pressing his nose against Bill’s collarbone. “Sorry to inform you, but you’ve reached your peak. It’s all downhill from here.”

Bill laughed at him, twisting his fingers in Dipper’s hair. He stroked it gently, letting out a sigh. “That was really scary.”

“Want to talk more about it?” Dipper questioned, happily joining Bill on the bed when he scooted over. Dipper also accepted the role of the little spoon without complaint, letting himself be bathed in Bill’s scent.

“Not really. Not right now.” Bill closed his eyes, squeezing Dipper. “Hey, can you promise me something?” Dipper made a quiet noise of affirmation. “You’ll never change me without permission, will you?”

“I would never do that to you,” Dipper assured. “Ever. You are free to remain human, you are free to join me. As long as you’re happy, I don’t care.”

Bill let out an uncertain noise at that. “But… won’t you be upset if I just die someday? You’d miss me, right?”

“Of  _ course  _ I would,” Dipper told him, keeping his voice low and warm. “But your life is yours to control. It will never be my decision to choose what you do with it.” He kissed at the human’s neck.

“What if I was already dying?” Bill asked, turning his head toward Dipper. “Would you change me then?”

“Would you want that?” Dipper asked, eyebrow cocked.

Bill let out an irritated huff, returning his eyes to the ceiling. “I don’t know. That’s why I want to know what you’d do. Would you change me if it meant saving my life?”

“Would you hate me if I did?” Dipper queried in return, wrapping an arm around Bill’s middle.

“I don’t think I would. I… Can I tell you something weird?”

Dipper snorted. “Everything you say is weird.” He pressed a kiss to Bill’s breast. “Why change that now?”

“You’re an asshole,” Bill told him with a scowl.

Dipper shrugged in response, pressing his cheek flat against Bill’s chest and looked up in contentment at the human above him.  _ His  _ human. The idea of it made him feel warm.

“I feel like I know you,” Bill murmured, the words barely above a whisper. “Like we’ve met before—maybe before the car wreck, maybe in another life. Like that story you told me from the Book of Iscariot. About a vampire finding his soul or whatever. But I don’t feel like a lost part of  _ you _ . And I don’t feel like you complete me—not in that way.”

Dipper pursed his lips, but waited as Bill continued.

“I just feel like I  _ know  _ you. In some weird, parallel universe, you and I—we’re together. We’re meant to be together.” He kissed at Dipper’s forehead. “I think that  _ we’re  _ meant to be together. Somehow. And I really want to be together, but I don’t want to be grossly over-romantic about it.”

“None of that is weird,” Dipper told him. “Not a single bit of it.”

“Really?” Bill asked, voice jumping.

“Really. I think it’s cute.” Dipper pressed up further so he could kiss Bill once more. “You know where I stand on the issue.”

Bill nodded. “But it’d be nice to hear you say it,” he goaded, poking at Dipper’s side. 

“It’d be nice to rid of the people trying to kill you too, but that’s going to take a bit,” Dipper replied, pressing their noses together. “But, for the record—I believe similarly. I think we’re meant for each other. At least we better be, after all  _ this  _ shit.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there. I woke up just long enough to post this.
> 
> My beta is EmberGlows :3
> 
> Want to stay updated? Click [here](http://everyday-im-preaching.tumblr.com/) to stay in the know!


	41. Navigation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> >:( Hey guys. I'm not mad at y'all, you're all beautiful <3 But it's been a rough night.   
> I hope you enjoy, and if you do, please leave a comment below! I really like hearing from you!

_ “You, dear children,  _

_ are from God and have overcome them, _

_ because the one who is in you is greater than the one who is in the world.” _

_ -1 John 4:4 _

 

As much as he wanted to, Dipper knew that they couldn’t spend too long in bed. Especially now that Bill had begun to kiss him, languid and unbearably sweet. The kisses were equal parts dizzying and exhausting, and Dipper couldn’t afford a nap. Or anything else, for that matter.

“Bill,” Dipper breathed softly against the human’s mouth, leaving one of his hands tangled in Bill’s hair. “We have to get up.”

Bill grunted, obviously displeased; he was braced above Dipper, his arms locked on either side of Dipper’s face. He pulled away slightly, but not enough to let the vampire slip out unhindered. The kiss-bruised pout that crossed Bill’s kiss-bruised face was almost enough to convince Dipper to throw his concerns to the wind—but only  _ almost.  _

_ “Off,” _ Dipper ordered, tone purposefully mirthless and dry. Bill grumbled something unpleasant under his breath, but moved off Dipper. “You can kiss me all you want later.”

“But I want to kiss you  _ now,” _ Bill whined; he scooted across the bed until his legs were hanging over the side, his morose expression still in place and deepening by the second.

Dipper cocked an eyebrow. “Are you saying that you won’t want to kiss me later?” he asked, getting up from the bed and hearing the mattress groan and squeak angrily at him. Dipper winced. “First things first—we’re getting a new bed once this mess is over with.”

“I think it’s pretty comfy,” Bill piped up. “I think that you could get another year out of it at least.”

Dipper shook his head. “We’re not playing this game, Bill. I’m getting a new mattress. This one can’t be good for your back.” When Bill didn’t follow him to the door, Dipper turned to address him. “Well, are you coming? Gideon and Resolved are downstairs and we have to plan our next move.”

“I… Yeah, I’m coming,” Bill replied, sounding a bit dazed at the suggestion. “Why do I need to be there?”

“Because they’re trying to kill you, first and foremost,” Dipper said, opening the bedroom door and ushering Bill into the hallway. Once there, he entwined their fingers together, chuckling when Bill’s face unfolded in delight at the touch. “Since it’s your life, I thought you might have some sort of opinion, or desire to brainstorm with us about how to save it.”

Bill hummed softly, squeezing Dipper’s fingers. “Well, yeah. You’re right. I just feel like I could use a hundred-year nap.”

“Yeah, couldn’t we all,” Dipper muttered, pulling Bill down the stairs. “But getting drained like that can really fuck you up. If you start to feel too cold, or anything starts hurting, tell me.”

“I will,” Bill answered, almost shyly. “Thank you for taking such good care of me.”

Dipper didn’t reply, but kept his grip tight on Bill’s hand as they reached the first-floor landing. Turning his head, Dipper saw Resolved and Gideon curled up in an armchair together; both were fast asleep, Gideon’s face pressed hard against the vampire’s chest. 

“That’s cute,” Bill whispered. Dipper looked up to see him smiling at the couple. He raised an eyebrow in question, but Bill ignored him. “They’re so cute together. We shouldn’t wake them.”

“We have to,” Dipper replied, shuffling over to the sleeping couple. He gently nudged Resolved’s shoulder, and after a moment, a single eye cracked open. Resolved eyed Dipper sourly, reflexively pulling Gideon closer.

Dipper narrowed his eyes. “If you say ‘five more minutes, mum’, I’m going to drown you,” he hissed.

Resolved grunted unhappily, but began to shift, trying to pull his arm from underneath Gideon without waking him. Seeing this, Dipper simply reached down and pinched Gideon; the pathologist was up with a yelp, knocking an elbow into Resolved. Resolved hissed in turn, but not at the man beside him.

“That was rude,” Resolved admonished, rising from the chair now that he was free.

Dipper shrugged. “Cry me a river. We have things to do.” 

“Course you can stay up there with Bill all you want, but we have to jump when you say jump,” Gideon groused, rubbing at his arm. Dipper offered him a bland, unimpressed look, but said nothing.

“I told him to let you sleep,” Bill piped up.

Gideon looked at him, expression softening. “Thank you, honey. Least I know one of y’all is sweet.” He struggled to get out of the chair for a moment, and then flopped back into it. “Resolved, darling, could you—”

Resolved offered a hand before Gideon could ask his question, and he received a thankful smile in return.

It took a bit of settling and a quick meal for Gideon and Bill, but they were eventually all around the kitchen table once again.

“So, anyone have any ideas?” Dipper asked, balancing his chin in his hand. Everyone at the table looked around at each other, all uncertain. “No such thing as a bad idea.”

Something akin to a whine left Bill, and everyone turned to look at him. He shrunk under the attention, fiddling with his fingers and looking at the stained wood of the kitchen table. “Well… if we… found the Arc, we could give it to this Shepherd and he’d leave me alone, right?”

Bill noticed the looks of incredulity, and he cleared his throat. “Well, uh. I have no reason to be attached to it. And I certainly don’t want whatever it is.” He picked at his fingernails now. “I mean, it has people trying to  _ kill  _ me. I really don’t want it.”

“If we knew where it was, we could just give him the coordinates,” Resolved pointed out. “And he would  _ also  _ leave us alone.”

Bill shook his head, furrowing his brow. He closed his eyes, and then took a deep breath. “No. We would have to deactivate or damage the Arc first.” He brought his hands up, steepling them in front of his lips. “It’s too dangerous to just let him have it.”

It was Dipper’s turn to close his eyes, pressing his fist to the centre of his forehead.. “Bill, you say that with a little too much confidence.”

“Yeah,” Bill agreed, finally lifting his eyes to look at Dipper. “I… I know where the Arc is—” He stood before anyone else could speak, knowing what they’d say. His chair squealed loud enough to silence the table. “—Sort of. And not because I remembered where it was.”

“Sug, that doesn’t make sense,” Gideon told him; the normal sweetness of his voice was ragged and unkind. “What do you mean you know where it is? Do you know what it is?”

Bill shook his head. “No idea, but…” He looked away from the table, sticking a hand into his jeans pocket. He slowly pulled out a beaten up thumb drive. It was almost identical to the one that Dipper had gotten from Jolene and given to Manisa. “I spent some time with this, after our introductory investigation of it.”

“Wait a second, where did you get that?” It was Resolved who spoke, not Dipper. Dipper shared an unsure look with him.

“From the bedside table?” Bill answered, furrowing his brow. “You left a note, telling me to comb through it, see what I could find that might help us.” After a moment of silence, he looked around the table, letting his eyes land on Dipper. Horror was present in every inch of Bill’s expression. “You didn’t leave that, did you?” 

“No,” Dipper said, short and to the point. “I didn’t.” He shook his head. “But that doesn’t matter. What did you find?”

“Who left it?” Bill asked, voice quiet and uncertain. He was staring at the thumb drive now, hands shaking where they were pressed against the table. “If people can get into your house—”  
Dipper cut him off. “—Bill, listen to me. If whomever left that wanted you dead, you’d be dead, okay? But they didn’t. I assure you that you are safe in this house. No one is going to hurt you. Tell us what you found.”

Bill looked uncertain, but nodded. “I… I was going through the documents, trying to get some semblance of understanding from their titles—and in some cases, the inside of the documents themselves.” He patted down his pockets for a second, and then pulled out a folded piece of paper. “Some of them are just jumbled letters, no spaces, no context.”

He laid the paper down on the table, tapping it. “Including this. The title, deciphered, is called Project N.O.A.H. Noah.” Bill pursed his lips briefly. “I searched for some sort of meaning for the acronym, but it wasn’t anywhere on the document—in fact, the only thing there was a set of coordinates, and a single sentence, also in need of being decoded.”

“What does Noah have to do with the Arc?” Gideon asked, sounding completely honest in his question.

Dipper snorted. “He built it.” He folded his arms over his chest. “I’m assuming you know what the sentence said? Or at least a clue, anyway.”

“Yes, I do,” Bill told Dipper with a nod, fiddling with the corner of the paper. He slowly unfolded it, smoothing out the creases best he could. Pen was scribbled in every corner, covering most of the document. But in the middle of it were two words, circled in red. “ _ Deactivate it. _ ”

“It’s as easy as that? Deactivate it?” Resolved asked, grabbing at the paper. “No instructions, no suggestions. Who does this Jolene think we are, bomb specialists? Technicians?”

“She might have thought I have some sort of… previous knowledge,” Bill muttered, slowly sitting back down. “But I don’t. Not even a little bit.” He ran a hand through his hair, tugging at it. “I have no idea how to deactivate whatever the hell this thing is.”

“And they could follow us,” Resolved nearly whispered, pursing his lips. “But it’s better than doing  _ nothing. _ I say we go and find this ‘Arc’.”

Dipper nodded. “It doesn’t look like we have any other options. If we wait here, we’ll be surrounded within the next few hours. I doubt that Syd is going to wait to tell Shepherd that we found him.” He stood from the table, letting his arms dangle at his sides. “Twenty minutes.” 

“Twenty minutes?” Bill inquired.

“Before we leave,” Dipper told him, straightening his clothes. “We’re not going to stay here any longer; I don’t like the idea of being a sitting duck for anyone. We can’t get anything done if we hide.”

“That isn’t very long at all,” Gideon muttered, but he was standing too. A frenzied look had already entered his eyes. “I can’t believe your house only has one shower.” He huffed, heading toward the stairwell.

Dipper rolled his eyes. “When I built this house, I was the only one who needed to take a shower here. I can’t believe you’re going to waste time taking a shower right now.”

Gideon jerked his head upward, thrusting his bottom lip out into a pout. “Some of us have a reputation to uphold.”

“None that matters right now,” Dipper grunted out, turning away from Gideon to face one of the covered windows. He could only imagine how the vampires in town would react when they realised that Manisa had left, if she’d not already spoken with them—or turned them against Dipper and Resolved. If not, there would be an attempt at a power grab.

Bill wrapped an arm around his waist, and he turned his head toward the human.

“What are you thinking about?” Bill questioned, digging the sharp of his chin into DIpper’s shoulder. Dipper reached up, gently carding his hand into the human’s hair.

“Nothing,” he murmured in response. Turning slightly, he smiled at Bill. “You, now.”

“I’m honoured,” Bill teased, kissing at Dipper’s neck. “We should go get ready.”

Dipper nodded, letting his fingers ghost down the side of Bill’s face, scratching against the stubble on his jaw. “Yeah, we should.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey homies.
> 
> My beta is the illustrious EmberGlows
> 
> Song for this chapter:  
> Noah by Amber Run  
> All Falls Down by Alan Walker, Noah Cyrus, Digital Farm Animals
> 
> Want to stay updated? Click [here](http://everyday-im-preaching.tumblr.com/) to stay in the know!


	42. Eye See You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Welcome to the next chapter! If you like what you read, I'd love to hear from you below!

_"At midnight the Lord struck down all the firstborn in Egypt,_

_from the firstborn of Pharaoh,_

_who sat on the throne,_

_to the firstborn of the prisoner,_

_who was in the dungeon,_

_and the firstborn of all the livestock as well."_

_-Exodus 12:29_

 

 

“Are you sure you read those coordinates correctly, Bill?” Dipper asked; the coordinates in question were to the little café where he and Bill had first met, right in front of the intersection he’d frequented before this entire mess. Bill looked equally as puzzled, brows drawing tight over his eyes.

Bill looked down at the paper in his hands, and then back up at the building in front of them; the setting sun licked at the windows in bright, glittering orange and yellow stripes. He frowned, and then nodded.

“I mean, yeah.” He lifted the paper up and pointed at it. Dipper didn’t spare it a look, and the human brought the paper back down. “I don’t get it. Why here? Why would the Arc be here?”

Resolved shrugged, strolling past them and up to the locked door. “I don’t know. Perhaps whoever hid it is a fan of coffee?”

Bill snorted, shaking his head. “Not here they aren’t.” He shoved his hands into his pockets, following Resolved, and now Gideon, to the door of the coffee shop. “You don’t come here for good coffee.”

“What do you come here for then?” Resolved asked, peering inside. He frowned. “It looks as if someone’s ransacked the place.”

Dipper cocked an eyebrow, stepping up to the front door and giving it a tug; the door creaked and groaned, resisting the rough jerk. Dipper hummed, tugging at it again, listening as the screws screeched in protest. He was about to yank at it again, but Gideon shoved him out of the way.

“You stop that,” Gideon told him. “Pulling that door off the hinges ain’t going to do you no good.” The pathologist patted down his pockets, eventually pulling out a pair of flat, odd-ended tools. Dipper cocked his head to the side, watching as Gideon began to work on the lock with them, using the fast approaching night as cover.

“It would have been faster my way,” Dipper hissed as the door clicked open; surprisingly, the highway behind them was empty—it was mildly unsettling to see the normally busy road void of cars. The strip mall, too, was empty of people. But that wasn’t too out of the ordinary for the area.

The four of them slipped into the building, and Dipper instantly took a step back to survey the area. The tables inside the coffee shop were all turned on their sides, some missing chunks of wood and sporting splintered legs. The chairs were in much the same fashion, tossed here and there and broken in many places.

Walls, normally decorated in tacky paintings from thrift stores, were the victim of a razor blade (or claws, if Dipper had to guess) and were free from their burden of heavy picture frames. Any books that might have been shoved into the tiny bookcases dotting the walls were also torn free and littered on the ground.

“Someone wasn’t happy,” Dipper muttered, reaching down to set a chair back on its legs. “I wonder what they might have been looking for—” He turned to Bill. “—You didn’t tell anyone where we were going, did you?”

Bill shook his head. “I don’t know who I would’ve told,” he responded, poking the toe of his shoe into an overturned plant. “I’m not exactly the most social guy, since everyone’s been trying to kill me.”

“Not everyone,” Dipper reminded, walking over to a nearby ruined bookshelf. “And once we take care of this Shepherd guy, no one will be.”

Bill grumbled something under his breath, walking over to the bar and fiddling with an emptied napkin holder. Dipper ignored him, deigning to scent the air instead; the faintest trace of rotten blood reached his nose, and his face pinched in displeasure. However, even the familiar scent of rot couldn’t cover the scent beneath it—whatever it was, it was _wrong._ No, not wrong. Just… _off._

“Rotten blood,” Dipper muttered aloud. “There was a vampire here. Smells like they hurt themselves too.”

“Not a papercut either,” Resolved agreed, eyes flicking from one side of the room to the other. “It looks like someone picked this place clean—what’s the chance of us finding something that they didn’t?”

Dipper shrugged his jacket off, handing it to Bill; the human had begun to shiver and was poorly hiding it. Spindly fingers took it willingly, shoving too long arms into the holes.

“We won’t know until we try,” Dipper responded, rolling up his sleeves.

 

An hour later searching in the poor lighting from an dusk-to-dawn building outside, and _nothing._ No secret hatches or doors; they’d even pulled every book still left on the shelf. Bill had taken to moping at the bar, forehead pressed against the battered wood and a frown etched into his face.

“I’m sorry,” he told the others, not looking up. “I really thought that there’d be something here.”

Dipper placed a hand on his back, working slow, soothing circles into it. Bill shifted closer to the vampire, turning his head so he could look at him. Dipper shook his head. “Don’t worry about it. It was the only lead we had. We’ll deal with whatever comes.”

“I have to worry about it,” Bill huffed out, lips forced into a pout with the way he was laying. “I got everyone into this mess—including myself. My old self got me into this.”

Dipper shushed him, moving his hand to gently massage Bill’s neck. “It’s not your fault.” He frowned, and then sighed. He went to open his mouth, to suggest leaving town, damn the consequences—and then he paused.

“What on earth is that?” Dipper asked, words barely leaving his lips. “Resolved, do you smell that?”

Resolved cocked his head to the side, nostrils flaring. Gideon and Bill shared an exasperated look.

“Come on, you bloodhounds—you ain’t smelled anything useful so far—”

Resolved held up a hand, cutting Gideon off. “—Gunpowder,” he muttered. “How… It’s very faint, and I supposed in our haste we may have ignored it. But gunpowder? In a coffee shop? How could we have missed it?”

“Easily,” Dipper replied, jerking off of the stool he was sitting on. “We were so enamoured by the blood—and the mess. It’s easy to get distracted.” He was rounding the bar, coming up beside Resolved.

Resolved let out an indignant huff.

Dipper rolled his eyes, elbowing him out of the way and sniffing the air around him in interest. “I’m not insulting your hunting ability, stop acting so offended,” he told Resolved, following the scent over to an innocuous looking coffee machine.

“Don’t open that,” Bill whispered; Dipper looked over to see Bill wrought with fear. “Horror movie logic says you should open the top of that.” The human rose from his chair, rounding the bar to hover over Dipper’s shoulder. “Oh my God, why did I come over here?”

“There’s definitely gunpowder in there,” Gideon stated; he’d crowded around the small machine, nose wrinkling in disgust. “Ruined the damn coffee pot. It’s going to taste like you’re drinking the Replacement Killers bullet budget for breakfast.”

Dipper actually snorted at the comparison, grabbing the lip of the coffee machine’s lid and flipping it up.

Bill turned away and wretched, chest heaving. He gripped at the counter, and behind Dipper, Resolved swore. Gideon also turned away, a shudder working its way through his body. It wasn’t the overwhelming smell of gunpowder, despite the thing being full to the brim with the fine, black powder. It was the eyeball settled nicely in the centre of it.

“Didn’t see that coming,” Dipper offered the group of disgusted peers around him. When they didn’t laugh, he shrugged. He carefully picked it up; it felt sort of like a grape if you’d covered it in petroleum jelly.  “Who do you think this belongs to?” he asked, turning it this way and that.

“I don’t care,” Bill wheezed, one hand gripping at his stomach. “I don’t care, I don’t care, I don’t _care._ ”

“I don’t care that you don’t care. If you don’t want to look at it, look elsewhere,” Dipper told him dryly, holding it up to Resolved. Resolved jerked his head back, and Dipper offered it to Gideon. “Pretty colour.”

“Mason _Alexander_ Pines, if you don’t get that out of my face I will strangle you with my bare hands,” Gideon snapped, teeth gritted.

Dipper laughed, shaking his head and bringing the thing back to face him.

Resolved let out an unsettled grunt, taking a step back from it. “Why would someone leave this _here_? What was the point?”

“Maybe it’s telling us where to look?” Dipper suggested, placing it on the counter. He dug his fingers into the gunpowder, wincing at the feel of it. He pressed his fingers to every inch of the small circle, feeling the ridges and thick lines where the filter would normally lay.

Beside him, Bill must’ve turned around, because he shrieked at the top of his lungs. Dipper turned to face him, thoroughly unimpressed.

“Bill. Just… don’t look at it.”

“Why don’t you tell it to stop looking at me,” Bill whimpered, pressing against the counter. “Oh God, that’s a human eye. That’s a human eye, sitting on the counter.”

“Yes, Bill. It is,” Dipper conceded, furrowing his brow when his fingers brushed something abnormal. Dipper assumed it was paper. He pinched it between his fingers. “I think I’ve got something.”

“Me too,” Bill replied. “It’s called the heebie jeebies.”

“Hun, you’re just making this fun for him,” Gideon told Bill. “He’s gonna keep antagonising you if you keep actin’ all disgusted.”

Dipper shrugged, looking back at the eyeball. He tugged sharply at the item between his fingers, dragging it up from under the gunpowder. Pulling it out, Dipper realised it wasn’t paper at all—but _skin._ And by the smell of it, _human_ skin. He unfolded it carefully, looking at it with only mild disgust.

Everyone’s eyes focused on the inked skin in front of them—it was, without a doubt, a map.

“That’s unique,” Resolved muttered, furrowing his brows. “And old. Very old.” He gently laid his fingers above the compass. He let his fingers trail down to a smudged signature in the corner. He squinted, then shook his head.

Bill cleared his throat. “Uh, I just want to say that I can’t see _shit,”_ he told the group, only to be hushed.

“It’s a map, Bill,” Dipper told him, tightening his grip on it. “I’m assuming that it leads to the Arc. But nothing is named—how are we supposed to figure out where it leads? Or where it’s supposed to lead?”

There was the faint click of a gun’s hammer being pulled back, and Dipper let a low hiss escape through his teeth in exasperation.

“You’re not supposed to. I am.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys!
> 
> My beta is EmberGlows
> 
> Want to stay updated? Click [here](http://everyday-im-preaching.tumblr.com/) to stay in the know!


	43. Pigskin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi there guys! I can't believe I have to make another one of these notes ;u;
> 
> If you are interested in this fic, please comment. If you're not actively interacting with me on this fic, it generates less interest from me--not the idea itself, no, I love this story and I won't stop writing it--but it generates less interest in writing it. I may post a lot, but I write very, very slow. It takes me 7+ hours to write a single, 2k word fic. Sometimes longer. And when there are so many of you. It's kind of disheartening to see so few comments, when I know how many of you read every chapter. I know it's hard work to comment on every chapter. I do. But, well. So is writing.  
> Again, this story isn't going to stop, but if your response to it keeps declining, then so will chapter frequency.

_Give to everyone what you owe them:_

_If you owe taxes, pay taxes;_

_if revenue, then revenue;_

_if respect, then respect;_

_if honour, then honour._

_-Romans 13:7_

 

Dipper didn’t turn around, at first. It was only after the other three had that he deigned to do so, carefully folding the map in his hands, trying not to shake. The voice was in no way familiar, but it struck something so primal and untouched in Dipper that it chilled him to the bone.

“And who are you?” Dipper asked, keeping his eyes on the skin he held in his hands. It felt heavier with each passing minute. “I didn’t know that this coffee shop was good enough to warrant three break-ins in a single day.”

Bill flicked his eyes over to him. “It’s not,” he replied, voice dropping to a whisper.

Dipper ignored him, flipping the map this way and that. “If I had to guess, then you need this?” he asked, slowly lifting it in time with his gaze. Slowly his brow furrowed, unable to process exactly what he was seeing in front of him—where the person had been was empty.

“Who are you talking to, sug?” Gideon asked, turning toward him, and Dipper heard the soft clink of glass as the pathologist replaced a lid on a glass jar next to him. “Everything okay?”

“Did you guys not…” Dipper began, and then quieted. “…Resolved, take the map and see if you can find us a way down on it. If we can’t find one, we leave.” The younger vampire handed the map over, and Resolved took it, looking puzzled as ever. “The longer we stay here, the more of a target we become.”

“What didn’t we do?” Bill asked from his left; there was something knowing in his eye, and Dipper shook his head. “You can’t start keeping secrets _now_.”

“It’s nothing, Bill,” Dipper assured. He wasn’t quite sure what had just happened—there had obviously been _someone_ there. _Someone_ had spoken.

Dipper turned back to the coffee machine, fiddling with the handle of the coffee pot as Resolved opened the map once again and began to pore over it with an intense focus. Dipper wasn’t one to jump to conclusions, especially trying to believe that the conclusion here was _magic ._ Blaming the recent exchange on magic was ridiculous and felt a lot like a cop out.

“The map seems to indicate there’s a floor beneath this one—perhaps a hidden storage room?” Resolved murmured; he lifted a hand to tug at one of his braids, twisting it between his fingers. “Or four.”

“Or four?” Dipper questioned, letting his eyes drift back to the human eye that was sitting on the counter, albeit non-threateningly. He reached over to pick it up, and laughed in surprise when Bill slapped it away.

“Do _not_ touch that,” Bill ordered sternly, encircling Dipper’s wrists with his fingers and drawing them away. “You put it down, now leave it there.”

Dipper cocked an eyebrow at him. “Are you using your teacher voice on me?” he asked with a chuckle, letting Bill hold his wrists a bit longer. “I can’t believe you’d do that to me.”

Bill let out an uncertain noise. “I just… I really don’t want you touching the human eye. It’s nasty.”

“It is nasty, I agree,” Dipper told him, failing to keep the warmth from his voice. He turned to Resolved, breaking Bill’s grip with ease. “Where’s the entrance?”

Resolved held up the map, about to point at it—upon seeing Dipper’s face, he placed it on the table and spun to face the room. “It should be under the far-right table—” Looking at the mess the room had begun, he frowned. “Where the table used to be.”

He went to walk away from the table, but stopped with the click of Dipper’s tongue.

“The map,” Dipper said.

Resolved’s mouth screwed into a frown. “I’m just going to check, do I really need to bring it with me?”

Dipper didn’t reply, simply staring at Resolved; the older vampire must’ve saw something in Dipper’s face that prevented him from questioning him, because within seconds he’d picked up the inked skin and folded it neatly. Resolved proceeded to carry it with him over to the corner the map indicated.

“Do we know how to open this entrance?” Gideon questioned, folding his arms over his chest. Resolved let out an uncertain hum, shaking his head. The map was awkwardly clenched in his fingers at his side, and he looked all too ready to hand it back to Dipper.

Dipper shrugged. “No. I’m sure it’s not magicked shut or anything. You would know if this place was under the influence of magic, wouldn’t you?”

Gideon huffed, instantly moving his arms from their cross to prop his hands on his hips. “Excuse you? I ain’t no dowsing rod for magic. It ain’t as easy as just feeling magic in the same room as you.”

“Are you saying you wouldn’t know?” Dipper asked; he went to grab at Bill’s hand and tug him from behind the counter, but the human backed away. “Bill, come on.”

“I am not letting you touch me with that hand,” Bill told him, making a shooing motion with his hands. “Not until you wash it, at least.”

The vampire rolled his eyes, going to slip past Gideon and join Resolved in the corner of the room. “We have more important things to worry about. Get over here.”

“That’s exactly what I’m sayin’,” Gideon grumbled, waiting for Bill to walk past him before following. “There’s a special school of magic for that sort of thing.” Bill nodded sagely, as if he knew exactly what Gideon was rambling on about.

Resolved had crouched low to the floor, letting his hands wander over the splintered old wood. He attempted to hand the map back to Dipper, but Dipper held up a hand in obvious disinterest. He didn’t want the map back, not _now._ Resolved needed to hold onto it, if only for a little bit longer.

Searching closer to the wall, Resolved paused. He pressed his fingers low to the baseboard and dug them in—and then he _yanked,_ splintering the wood and sending bits flying this way and that, littering the floor beneath them like the world’s most disappointing confetti.

“What the fuck?” Dipper asked dryly upon seeing the disbelief on Resolved’s face. “Was there any purpose in that?” He watched as Resolved cleaned more wood from the area; he didn’t seem incredibly inclined to answer Dipper’s question, much to the younger vampire’s displeasure.

A small chirp and a flash of lights outside had Dipper swearing. Resolved jerked his head up in time with Dipper, noting the pale pallor that both Bill and Gideon had adopted.

“I really don’t want to get arrested,” Bill muttered and was moving toward the back exit before anyone could tell him differently. “I am not getting arrested, okay? It’s not happening.”

“Bill, get back here,” Dipper growled out as Resolved picked up the pace. “Bill, I swear to God, if you don’t get back here right _now—_ ”

Outside the door, Dipper could vaguely hear the sound of car doors popping free and shoes crunching against loose gravel. Walkie static filled his ears, and he turned to Resolved. “Resolved, you better have sort of plan. I don’t like pork blood.”

Dipper turned back to see Bill slipping into the kitchen of the café, and he made a disgusted noise. “Shit, you two… stay here, and do whatever. I need to go grab Bill before he does something stupid.”

“The way he’s running, makes me think he’s not that innocent after all,” Gideon grumbled, pressing close to Resolved. Dipper ignored him, darting through the shadows that remained in the building and following Bill with a silent swinging of the doors.

“Bill, get back here,” Dipper ordered when he entered the kitchen. The human was making his way toward the exit, shaking his head.

“You don’t get it. You don’t get what’ll happen to me,” Bill argued instantly, turning to face him. “It might not be in writing, but I’m essentially on eternal probation.” He shook his head again. “I can’t afford to get caught and arrested. If they actually arrest me and not shoot me on sight.” He let out a huff, looking at the door. “You’re white. And undead. You wouldn’t understand.”

“I’m not going to let anyone hurt you,” Dipper said, keeping his voice low and gentle. “I would never let anyone hurt you, okay? That’s what this whole thing is about—but I do know that they’ve seen the mess in the lobby. They’re probably sending someone around the back as well—I’m far more apt to survive a bullet to the chest than you are.”

Bill jerked his head to look at the exit, a low whine squeezing out from his lips.

“Can you hear them out there, then?” Bill asked quietly. Dipper nodded. In truth, there was only one cop outside—he hadn’t called for backup yet, but Dipper didn’t want to risk Bill’s life. The human began to gravitate back to Dipper, and once he was close enough, Dipper grabbed him.

“You are not going to run away from this,” Dipper whispered fiercely, reaching up with his non-gross hand, cupping Bill’s chin. “Do you understand me? I’m not going to let you run away from this or, well…” He paused, letting his hand move up to rest on his cheek. “…Me.”

Bill swallowed, flinching when he heard a banging on the door in the lobby. “But I can’t go to jail, Dipper.”

“You aren’t going to,” Dipper promised, petting his cheek. “I’ll slaughter the whole city first.”

This got a giggle from the human. “That’s oddly romantic,” he whispered.

The next bang came on the back door, and there was a muffled shout. Dipper swore and shoved Bill down and behind a counter. He rolled down beside him, wishing he’d brought some sort of weapon with him—Dipper attempted to find something that would make a good improvised one. He came up with nothing.

“Stay here,” Dipper hissed, hearing the door open. He briefly became concerned for Resolved and Gideon, and then shook it away. They could take care of themselves. Bill looked like he wanted to ask where the vampire was going but didn’t in lieu of the approaching footsteps.

“Kitchen seems empty,” The police officer grunted into his walkie.

“ _Lobby’s empty too, but we, uh. We’ve found something on the counter that might be considered concerning,”_ the walkie crackled back. “ _We’re going to need to sweep the area fully.”_

The footsteps stopped inches from the counter Dipper and Bill were behind. “Shit, it isn’t a body is it? I’m about tired of finding them.”

Dipper turned toward Bill, eyebrows hovering somewhere near his hairline. Bill was frozen where he was crouched, eyes wide and frightened. Dipper pressed a finger to his lips, sliding to the end of the counter and peeking around it—the police officer had his back to Dipper. Dipper took note of the gun on his hip with disdain.

He didn’t use his supernatural speed often, but in this case it was nearly required as he rushed to the matching counter on the other side of the room. He made sure to move slow enough to gather the human’s attention, but not enough to be seen. The police offer jerked toward the sound, hand going to rest on his pistol.

A moment or two of silence went by, before he spoke. “Hello?”

Dipper shook his head, creeping around the counter corner.

“If there’s anyone in here, come out with your hands up,” the officer demanded. "You are breaking and entering.”

Dipper considered it for a moment. Bill was right—he looked like a white, male teenager. He was likely to be taken in, over getting shot. And if he did get shot, it wasn’t like he was going to die. Slowly, he rose a hand over the counter, quickly followed by the other.

“Shit,” the cop grunted as Dipper rose, trying to look frightened. “It’s a kid,” he muttered, slowly holstering his weapon and grabbing his walkie. “Hey, I found a kid in here.”

“ _A kid_?” the voice on the walkie questioned. Dipper looked at the officer’s name tag. Denning

“Yeah,” Denning muttered in response, giving Dipper a once over. He addressed Dipper next. “Do you know what happened here?” He gestured at the kitchen—Dipper looked around him, realising that the kitchen was in similar shape to the lobby.

“No,” Dipper replied, squinting at the ceiling. He then levelled his gaze at Denning, pointing upward. “But there’s a body up there.”

Denning instantly jerked his head upward—taking his distraction as a chance to strike, Dipper crossed the room in seconds, fist colliding with the human’s face. There was a sickening crack as his nose broke, and the mortal went down without a fight. Dipper caught him before he could crumple to the floor, carrying him off to the side and laying him behind the counter he’d been hiding behind.

Dipper grabbed the officer’s gun and then took possession of his stun baton as well.

“Bill, let’s go,” Dipper hissed.

Bill scrambled out from behind hiding, trying to catch sight of the guy that Dipper downed. Dipper smacked him on the arm, pointing toward the door.

“Did you kill him?” Bill asked as he was shepherded toward the door.

“No, I didn’t. But if we stay, I’m going to have to,” Dipper growled. “Let’s go, before I do something I regret.”

“Okay, okay, I’m going,” Bill grumbled. “What about Resolved and Gideon?”

Dipper rolled his eyes. “They’ll be fine,” he said, opening the exit door a crack and peeking outside. There was an empty cop car parked not ten feet from it, lights flashing. Dipper let out a curious hum, and then turned to Bill.

“Have you ever stolen a cop car?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey.
> 
> My beta is EmberGlows
> 
> Song for this chapter:  
> Dark Eyes by Rusty K
> 
> Want to stay updated? Click [here](http://everyday-im-preaching.tumblr.com/) to stay in the know!


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